empty vessel

and now just smithereens,

this empty vessel

is trying to hurl itself

at itself,

collide like armies

of mad hadrons.

infatuated, intoxicated,

it tries to

glue its glass heart

back together,

just to re-live that bottled

up, deep love:

the one-more-time

weight, vanishing,

red with rage

in the spill

of having poured

out

all its secrets

to me.

— first appeared in PRISM journal Vol #3. I like wine.