Friday, July 25, 2008


The steak is rare and blood red.
Your suffering is raw and tearful.
What is felt is passed around like so many invisible handshakes.

Mother’s mood is in her milk.
Father’s desire is in his genes.
What becomes is in the seeds of the universal oak tree.

I eat the steak, I drink the milk,
Through my being all things are transubstantiated,
I take on the suffering, I embody the desire,
Through your being I am converted.