Every time—
right between
the eyes—
ardent greedy ginger-
steam
stings swift-
ly and inclines each
nostril to flare reflexively—
endeavoring there
to enter
and to storm the enchanted
and sprawling
and wasted
pallid
ruins and
columns of a somber mind—dauntless
climbing
its legendary winding
sinuses—not altogether
ruthlessly—plundering
and then
setting fire
to its heretofore palatial
capacity for
dim isolation.
