Demonology
A small irreverent demon
tunnels in and out of me.
Perhaps he is related to legendary gnomes
for he digs just for the pleasure
of moving amounts of me about
and he’s not particular.
Today he is mining
in the bowels of my earth.
I feel his hot breath
delving, mining, heaving out
a steaming crapulence
that arrives as talk
a kind of speech,
a kind of spoken demonology,
harvested as poetry.
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