in crossing over
is it we who hollow out
the combustible matter, grow wide
with dying or is it this breadth of life,
a god we decry in the ring-of-being-free;
decry past the preeminence in utero;
past the future where to die is without this?
without the hollowing?
the endeavor to plenish is how being alive repels what it seeks (it is only eternity that seeks its dis-re-membering) look how even desire between beings brings the distance that separates no further than seed—this brace of deities
nothing to receive cannot give
for even Nothing gives and receives
what is flowering but a hole?
a grave, not an embryo?
can "spring dead" be
without ovaries? if
to a hole hollowing is a gift
is not death the seed bequeath?