Karstin Painter
(Untitled)
I want Rilke answers for my Nietzsche questions.
Without any of Emily's dashes -
Those unsatisfied hungers flung into great depths of infinity.
Not concrete slabs beneath my feet
Sterile Hostility flashing no vacancy to my voracious roots.
Will there be no earth between the toes of my existence?

I want tenderness for the flesh and reality from poetry.  
No, do not intellectualize the meat of humanity and divorce me from the angels!
Our unfaithful city crawls over geography - a spawning salmon.
What next?
Shall we run to the edge and leap without wings, with God ringing in our ears?