The next poem in the series is called the Holy Ghost
Will Not Materialize.
This poem fire of thighs, the breathing wind,
and me big pioneer, is uncouth.
I want to sleep at night.
Mix the metaphors stark dumb my impression of the unconscious.
The loveliest woman is cruel iron.
I beat the forge of a soul pregnant with war.
The trouble with time is it's organic.
It means she bleeds.
Blood ruins everything.
Blood.
I'm going to war, back woodsman, alone in paradise.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Ghost.