Let me be born again. Let me
literally be spirited
back within my mother who
equally miraculously
let be live as once she was.
Let me decide just where & when
& in what set of circumstances I
shall this time choose to enter.
Let me think.
~ David Bromige
Otohime 
Sweden
there is depth in
the chalice of the child
things
can be picked up with the
toes
armadillos
hover in changeable arrangements
too feverish to enter a mother's womb
or to see the inside of a special
toe
a glass glass
toe
more enviable than rain
more stinking and transparent
than jesus, or rain
more like a laser
when it enters
stained glass trees
trees whose surfaces are seas
seas of mixing colors
or colored breads
deep dead seas of heads
heads like nests covered in hands
old hands
more soft than stinking
and transparent reigns
one old hand
neither light
nor dark
neither breathing
nore dull
one dull eyeball
breathing
one dim nest
resting in the perfection
of coolness