Besides my mom, and maybe Mike Soviero.
I don't personally know Trump.
I made myself known.
I tasted blood in my mouth.
all that old baggage,
the bloody bric-a-brac, the bad, the gothic,
the coyote scruff, retrograde,
obscurantist hum and drum of it
needs to be swept away.
Impatient—
to make such powerful contact with pleasure
that they will toss back the entire cover of earth,
a symptom of the same infection that was out there,
a mild one, but a symptom nonetheless.