has changed throughout our history
and we think now, when holding our heads,
of those who convulsed as lightening struck the ground
or who bled at unusual odors.
If we reconsider love to be disease
then, too, we may whisper ourselves toward a leech's philosophy,
a surgeon's bowl to be filled by our efforts, with our desires.
Resist these passions in the ways
this razor has been cutting my arm
here and here and here.