monstrosities perch on my elbow.
The couch mid-floor floating
where my tangled loves lay.
Shrines and their mercy of energy
inured to the skank pale doorways
shelves of bottled cherries
glinting at the fringe end of
the galactic edge.
Born on a wave of broken crusts,
I love the wild hills, the wild women,
eternity squats on my doorstep, I can't
leave the fresh cut circuit,
the days add weight to the need
to be formlessly continued,
knives pyramid on the sagging desk's
array of contents, the magic diamond
of sorrow, spring where night
lets down her veil
my hot lines of wet white androids
leaping to inform her tongue
where the scar trails off
and the light of the cave
rules paint wall time.
No comments:
Post a Comment