• How can we forget,
    the things our mother told us before we went to bed,
    with our head on our pillows and our minds in the sky.
    Stories dropping from her mouth,
    oozing and pulsing like a monster being born.
    Manifesting in our thoughts like worms finding wood,
    her Book in one hand, and reality in the other,
    clutching them both, one nearly to a smother.
    Imprinting, exploding, excavating the mind
    drilling in the words to all of mankind.