The riverrun.

 The bean from which we get chocolate is good.

And milk is good. And the rivrrrun of everything

We get from milk is, too.

It’s good. But silence appeases a

Different set of Gods. No age, no

Gender, no celebration of appetite.

This embarrassment of riches is different from

The rich folks you know.

They hang out in truckstops

And undo the eating of their own souls.

Curtain.

Love, be a movie.

Love, be a neighbor.

Show your familiarity to me.

The muses speak.

 How do we understand what they’re saying

In moments of ecstatic undoing?

Think of it like a volcano erupting:

Some folks will run away,

Other to the source of the explosion

To find the others. But everybody runs