Orpheus’s Death Published in Abramelin a Journal of Fine Poetry
http://thegiantgilamonsters.com/abramelin/ Orpheus’s Death when I wrote of men folding in their tight skins like an apple— apples swelling inside me— it was a mask when I wrote of a god standing near the window dancing— it was a mask there are no apples filling my hunger, no god folding in his skin, there is only the memory of my self torn at birth by my own music