and I don't cringe.
I take the Goddess when she's open
and I binge. Her aim is stretched
between what's been
and what will be.
I leave the greater part with Her
and take a little bit back just for me.
Stain me with your greatness,
O creation. Slay my willing spirit
with the holiness of heights,
take me to where rocks
have formed a cave,
let me paint with berries
juiced as dark as tattoo ink.
Show me the sacred
architecture without end
slithering beyond the brink.
Let my tongue of inspiration
moisten your sweetest stink
let my blood think.
No comments:
Post a Comment