As I spun those ruiner steps
Under so blood red summer rays
I drown my youth in color
Driving the long haul dreamt in
Hallowed mother’s cloud
Furrowed in salt beds lined
With cherry trees and archery
As I spun those ruiner steps
I flew in the tender gardens
My grandmother golded her passion
In fields of my infancy
While churches hoveled in
Speeches that moved birds
I drink in fever grass knolls
Those splendid christenings
Whoring my minnesota morning
I yearn the absence of sunlight
Upturning those blue roses
That tend my chambers
As I wind purple leaves and cornets
Born of elms that squeeze me
I wept of a dead child
Circulated my sweet slender wrist
My brother, he loves as he slips
Into fancies that rip the heart
I grasp my invigorated enthrall
My pocket owl
All bled in sweet maroon feverish calm
I write my cold-ridden nemesis
On a canvas of hot spit and ghosts
Fluttering among ghouls of cutting spirits
Your true of dread fives me into bits
I honest your lying wood
Spread me in open nature
To pray my books amongst
Truer paintings dripping the clouds
