Hot-faced
from a pickle of warring words
I step away

They say war’s 
not the answer, but if
one wars for love

of something else
If one puts oneself between
hate and the beloved

And if a weapon’s close at hand
why not strike back
They say it kills your soul

breeds more violence
sickens the air but
then one walks away

And there is another chance
and another
and the beloved lives on

As do you
hot faced but cooling
tool discarded

What is done once
can be done
only once

There’s no reason
to become addicted
Do it and step away

for the beloved’s sake
Do not become comfortable
but do not hesitate to do

the necessary
for the beloved
That’s your being there — so be

All of it — say it all,

contradictions, comments
that lay you out as crapvendor,
avenue directions through hell,
heaven’s cleaning instructions,
owner’s manual, acknowledgements
for the book of your treaured sins,

all of it.

All of it.
Slip slider portraits.
Solid affairs.  Sordid
footing.  Answers
to the pig questions —

the moments
of delicacy, the taste of
nostalgia broth, the last time
you were an agent of nausea
and that cleansing purge
leaving your breathless at the feet
of a first lover.  

All of IT!  All the extinctions.
All the lust for crushed windpipes,
blood-wrapped hands, baths of
stink and shame, decay cologne.

All of it includes and all of it
describes.  All of it art and all of it
the detailed icon of oily leavings
on the skin you claimed to honor.
All of it excludes nothing, there must have been
a good thing or two as well among the refuse.

Lay it out, all of it
as if you were a flea market blanket.
Trader in the garage junk you’ve accumulated.
Lay it out, someone will buy your mess
you think, all of it, thus emptied
you move homeward lighter,
more room for more junk now, lay it out,

all of it, garbage in and garbage out
a religious slogan is it not?  Is it not
all out there to be worshipped — is that why
you did this, you wannabe God of scraps?
You damn poet who lives in the clutter?
Who made clutter a living?  
All of it a clutter of your worst
dressed in gilt
and now set upon an altar?