Self-Portrait With An Armless Man: Nose Hair Intermezzo

      It's unnatural for bats to sleep so long. Blood has a specific gravity of a dirt floor, and their heads are far above compromise. Come now—only in holy books are wings a mystery.

      Snip snip, clip clip—those mutton chops have grown too far!

      Pull the vine once: test for boulders and loose debris. Twice: the dragon beside God is asleep. Three: don your gloves and don't look down.

      Not a lasso, just the soft web of your hand? Imagine my imagination deprived of oxygen.