"We lost you there", the nurse whispered.
Took his bite then his breath,
as rain buries sunshine.
Crystal lauded in exalted tones
of mystics describing transports
of bodies flooded with Holy Spirit.
Daybreak hunting mushrooms in wet grass
and the soft musk of soaked leaves...
Fair is fair, like ecstasy and death.
He touched both and knew mysteries.
Poets plying wordsmithies never
sing sweet as birds at sunset.
Close to close,
they cut off his clothes
before they burned
him to powder
fine as Crystal.
Monday, May 18, 2020
Saturday, May 16, 2020
Helen Unshaded
Every ray of Sun strokes me
with the lustful warmth
of a sharp stylus' prick.
Flame gushes from heaven,
anointing my form in fire.
I am the world, idol of all.
Unwritten name on
every book's cover,
idolatry be damned.
Saturday, May 09, 2020
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