Shouting this ever-hungry wind blows my eternal green
Shouting the ever-hungry wind blows my eternal green
Blessed as virgin wolves, treading the cloud men
Dressed a god red triumph gun salute
Fired in hallow-heaven’s cavernous melodies
Humped to Gabriel, as lions to the last game
A glisten in a hippos marvel
Functioning in brainwaves as jack of horses
Driven red and yellow as hard as Jericho
Hunted in moon piles layed in dust of shadows
Broken in lines of continuous floppen fish
I shutter trodden whispered petunia soldiers
Brushing the soot in a flash of bristly death crown
A wave of sudden shocks dream the willow sways
Fields stolen of infancy cop a fancy
Dancing the days in shallow pools
Breaching sun-crushed beaches all in a swallow
We contemplate these so damned christ mornings
As I sip all the ooze glanced into my mouth
Ghastly these dripping of the roof
Seem a quietly horrid substitute
Than the christmas tidings I swooned at
Holy walking walls split the sides
Of cross-shuttered delusions
A grotesque animal calling of ships and notes
Spun in a world’s warble, A demon’s jugular
Raking my shackled back in a worm’s lip
Beckoning fairer shades than mary of mourning
Swamped inside her ghoulish trades
She spoke cannibalism
While I curtailed my rabbit scuttle
Though some hearts be lost, loss is the heart’s triumph
Emancipating dungeon tingles
Wristing along fleeting seasons
Yearning sorrow as bees have none
A poisonous fault built by the big hand
I have wings of terror-tallow this night
Birding my wish of cliffs to pinks
Streaming across the sky lord
Becoming of fruit and bats of the light
Shown in mother’s milk
Truly this path parted itself into blood leaves
Hushing the forest’s floundering
As of skeletons and wishing wells
That speed the earth’s gossip circle
Jumping the graves in downtrodden fashion
Listening to owl-wise conscience
Praying the horizontal plunder
Drawn in a moment’s mumble
Until ends are tied
And we shed teeth and fears
Living dead will paint our afternoons
Spreading death thinly
To priest our nightly horrors
Sweating sheets alone
Forgetting mornings and nights
Blending all together, all so true
Joy in a winter’s flag we rise
Beyond this seconds gopher song
We are happy as a mole’s victory
A sunrise all ways in the face
Yet these simple things are a testament
To man be his metaphor
