My hoof is cloven too
Like the creature from
the black lagoon rises
daily bread from delirium.
What is wrong with
molecules is what is
wrong with systems:
dense cold on the other
side so horizon in mind.
Time I confess to my unending
fester-wart of cruelty—
one may match the whip
with the welt here,
where the exiled goat learns
tongues like Latin, Om,
where horn and hoof first dance
among puddles of abdomen.
poems by nicholas alti 