Mantis skull dancers
romance their mummy women
down where the rain jar juju taxi waits...
Sitting on an ice stool,
the cat-hearted dharma hustler
deals out the Rimbaud, the strawberry, the one-eye...
Kiss the ghost for me,
I'll miss you, but
the empty hangers sounded just like church bells at my back
early this morning,
when the stairwell slipped its skin and called my name.