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Nine volts, pt. 2

I know that I hung in a windy yew tree
nine long nights,
head like a giant harvest moon
stuffed with a fragrant but runny cheese
and slowing like a unwound clock; then

an apparition appeared to me, dragging
nine long limbs,

lungs full of furious and fecund words
of beauty and terror
and in all-out pissed and chambered tenor it then did

hurl nine insults of indexed vex
and cross-referenced vile

to my own regrets and misspent hours
and mistreated family
and I mistook nine settling birds for my own reprieve