Coming to, count four walls
One, three, the puerile frith
Between opening eyes
And seeing.
Wiry light befalls the
Hemlock
Does glaze the iris
Of my fevered gaze.
There, on the stool
Old ink once was
Speaking
Now quiets itself
In an abstract
Frontispiece.
Shh, stifling wind
The unwavering carnifex
Purloigns the mercy
From ripening
Slavic fruit.
Shh, stifling wind
Wears led
From the ground
In an iron
Mantilla-
To feel restricted is
The wind's secret to life.
One, three, the puerile frith
Between opening eyes
And seeing.
Wiry light befalls the
Hemlock
Does glaze the iris
Of my fevered gaze.
There, on the stool
Old ink once was
Speaking
Now quiets itself
In an abstract
Frontispiece.
Shh, stifling wind
The unwavering carnifex
Purloigns the mercy
From ripening
Slavic fruit.
Shh, stifling wind
Wears led
From the ground
In an iron
Mantilla-
To feel restricted is
The wind's secret to life.
2 comments:
ballsack blasto
ballsack blasto
wherefore art thou
ballsack blastron
On a burnished throne
Withered with customs stale
The Queen of Owls
Casts a sullen shadow over
The lingering naked worm.
Breathing as if after a weary dream
Dissenting jealously was the feathered Queen.
Venomous the vile that suffer endless
Anguish, flowering and wilting in languid air.
A pendent rock to be placed on Elysium’s crown
Wherefore infolds the amorous strokes
The savage race and liquid surge
From the long disheveled hair of
A witch bleating bile.
The memory that suffers these past grievances,
Is a pale flower preserved in amber.
And flying drunk across the sky
Her feathers fall with certainty
To pierce this great eye
With visions of glittering chaos.
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