eucharist - the stick of finger, drawing in the dirt, you return to your dust - breathing in the particles of how it all began, a memory tool, your sinuses seize up, and you sneeze to clear your head of the cobwebs, and you weave a web a picture of how you see it - the small bones of your hand a pen with which to write yourself into the grave, to pay the toll - for having borrowed a vehicle. my memory is part of the soil, feeding the gardens you grow on the land into which my blood and marrow decomposed. gather mushrooms - for i am in them. eat my body, drink my blood - and you will remember. how i gave up a monument - for the ultimate sacrifice: to compost and fertilize the way. ⴲ. View quoted note →