There is no life higher than the grasstops

As a poet I would say everything should be able to come into a poem but I can't put toothbrushes in a poem. I really can't.

Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

I am still raw. I say I may be back. You know what lies are for. Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.

I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.

I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.