Excerpts from 'The Book of Scented Things'
Like a priest tipsy on communion wine
a Catholic smell
We've been bathing in Christmas trees
lemon doughnut
An angel's share of whiskey is taken from a barrel by the air
what else would grief
smell like if not black
shadows in the cornfield, if not
the moon's slow bone caught
in the bullfrog's throat?
tiny perfect violence
on the hero's beach
The devil's cameo is bland
freshly washed with bucket water
ice cream sandwiches
graying amber light
fire ant jam
lime-tree bowers
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