I vanish the slightest Without words, A sight from one cell I emerge into offer Renewed to commit Commitment left lengthwise, Renewed full hope continual In lives that aren’t mine. Too soon I’ll vanish Pulled back into myself, I chase me to catch me Spying on the outside. Friends are fattening themselves On bundles of sticks At a reclusive seaport In heaven Where maple skin guys Loosely sewed between Jet black garment trick Their locked hips to spacious wings Beneath the holy holy tree of the Understood word. They shake away their wings To hear that you have evicted young Satan; That fine historical bird First revolutionist of the winged set. Fragment and Reconstruction from the book of Rys My brother gave me toys Of orchard that was tacky Gave them to me because The source of his children Was bricked in silence. And when I was as heavy in corns I did snigger for hours yet, Had to flee to my secret harbor That ever be ebony. Behind the history of the blessed retribution The master of his children, shingled and slaughter Gave death’s fragrance to ware in my skin Then he pushed me into the light’s rim Where I became ashes and gravies catching To the rusted grave of dead metal. Ebony be my color this is my honey hole
Posted on: Sun, 11 Aug 2013 04:32:02 +0000
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