proof of poetry

yes, i am actually going to post a poem. proof that behenji churns out poems, gets hand cramps from spinning the wheel.

poetry poachers beware: you can call the words yours, but you can't steal the mind they came from! enjoy!


In one hand
angry violets
And in the other
a Kukri knife
glowing green
of fresh floral kill

the flowers are for myself
my pleasure, my eyes
you say, holding them
a little too tight
and now your hands
smell faintly
of death
as you hold our faces
kiss us goodbye