When the broken light flickers red
While the broken light flickers red
In a gushing of summer’s loins
Beat blue in a hailstorm of flash bulbs
Tenderizing the witch’s pot-skilled sympathy
We awaken the dreary walls
In a bullet-bred circulating fever
Brushing hairs as they swallow the dirt
A walking skin travels footpaths
Slithering the yard-bushed castles
Erected as souls and frogs soar
Lining gates with doors half licked
I post to hillside contempt
And drop my fancy-self
Inside bee beds crowning daylight
Scared of a tune’s triple medusa
Sweetly sinister on butter tracks
If stone, arrow, or wind
Could possess of moment’s mumble
Or slip a dripping knife into cake’s cackles
My slightly visible eyes might tremble a tick
But a weedy hunted whore lips howls
As roped-messengers gut her knees
Blind-rasping rocking wells tip her sinews
Vivacity is a dungeon cell in drag
Faces disappear as flowery-painted rockets
Lighting moon smiles, tearing sunny rays
Horsing my gentle wrists
Under lock and chamber
Running sped with cringing hope
I dream bound in cages
Which fervor takes hold
Spider-clad; all screaming hallows
Flowing ruinous to my heaven-lips
Blacking this god-grasped night of hells
Rarely mountains rush the day
As my seven-sinned brain does me
Grief this morning as it spits tobacco
Bucket my bones early
Bible black in peter’s crow beak
Worthless as a winged deathless reaper
Spread compost driest season
Diseased as rats and lepers
Catching bread crumbs with gnarled teeth
A garden full of rambling hornets
Watching their poisoned jet-rhymes
Coddle this heart-of-times
In nestled death adornment
Waking winter’s chilled bones
As they graze mine
A wishing book in an aces of ruling spots
I dreamed my thoughts in blades of grass
To let father wind master veins
I chain this puny ghost of mine
Deeply straining fingers
Thrusting me multitudes
But glimmering eyes
Priest not me
But I tower in blues and corridors
Traipsing dim robes all crushing blood
Hunting my time as I look on others
They handle slow progress in grimy palms
Cleaning my wolves bred in nightfall
Banshee this light I sing
Amongst trees that stony austerely
Grafted of a like so coaled
Sooting myself in dead leaves
Though your eyes feed me
I cannot rise up in food alone
My secret passion drives
These murderous scribblings
That haunt pages and notes
A call to arms I alone
Have been deemed
Though I open-hearted due pain
So I understand this hero nerve
Dropping where I loved
On the cold war floor
A hold my ghastly prayer book
Dipping my breastplate
Into fire this evening
As I take up my mask
It is easier to view the sunrise
While my green roots blast the drive
