but for this, when you find out life is
what it is whatever it is no one really
knows what the fuck it is you stumble
on the reality that but for this it’s a
lion’s cage, a bitter city of poets on
the gallows and fingernails you are
always biting your fingernails the
children are hiding under the bed
that shapes all monsters as the right
size to stir with bones and words
glimmering beyond the vineyards
where the boys play in the deep eaves
of leaves and the sacred dead
four quarter fire to fire but for this