Thrombosis
Bits of the body migrate: bone dust
from the crematorium, gasses
Leached from graves. But in the body
itself, there is other breakage. The journey
Through that labyrinth is perilous.
There are stations. None passes
Declares the angel with a sword of flame
at the duodenum’s portal. But the great
Black gate of the heart stands open.
Enter, particle, and begin. 
Adornment on an Ancient Tomb in Tibet
Another Horizontal Lyric
Gall Themselves, and Gash
Hund’s Rule
Sappho
Thrombosis
Urn Burial