How especially this wind treads
How especially this wind treads
Howling sunbeams so yearning
As treading a somber footing
Along boulevards spilling the aches
Of time’s crooked syllable
Waiting on mouth-sent ravens
Austerely singing the morning breeze
That I cross out and dot
With I’s and seven deadly sins
Beneath my breastplate
Predating my demise
But I shutter a sunny sweet smirk
Toward this ever-closing moonlight
I spread my hopes upon
Though food be solid and milk warm
I have no want
To breathe such heavenly impressions
Along my tender knee sleeps
Hovelled inside a rose
I coddle this gnarled hope
Of blasting my stony roots
That clatter this drudge of a mind
Can I paint a perfect sunset?
While I dream under clouded sheets
A vision burning a sunday breaching
