Here's a few lines from one of those three collab poems, "A Multitude of Red Ring Fingers":
"Then we dreamed our own nest
not filled
with birds or bate but
blood. We
could rest there all
morning
afternoon
evening
mowed and
loaded with all kinds of fur.
Made up fur
is no more faux than real fur
is ready to
be
hot flax
seed
oil
drenched with blood.
Red
torrential downpours of
fetus
wings. Ring finger
slough. Cut
it off
and see
what is
inside
me
this
trough of
strange
transcendence"
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