brothers

Since fall is such a reflective time, it can also be a poetic time. It's a time when all the leaves are falling, we are reassessing the threat of the cold on our immediate future, and reminiscing about the past. For some, like my friend Justin, it is a time of violent dreams and sudden bursts of epiphany. He wrote me this poem so I thought I'd share it:

every night again i am my brother's killer
with infantile anguish i curse his spirit and
strike his soul and tear the shivering flesh from his naked body

and when he lies before me desecrated

i awaken

horny, hungry, human
and in the mood for love

-contributed by Justin Tensen