Blest be death for carrying my breath to waltz with yours
Blest be the soils scraping my flesh to bone, to your crown though 'tis but marrow
Grounding the cranesbills'plum to shift attar of murk
Such in effrontry to night's own cognomen.
The forest where fallow summers hatch to cessating swelter where the fever drops to crisp faucets
Screening your semblance; pale as sacramental light to languid carriage of branchlets
The plain contour of a garden wrought from eden's plot
Your sights are singeing blinks in need, so in need for a lid's feature to flare
Tend to the intricacy she prances in with the blind touch, with the glassy clasp she hangs from the mortuary valves
And how I long for her dregs !
And the white cloth she vessels in after they washed her !
Bolstering death; she breasts a canister for the mortal ill strocking her past lovers' tokens, tempting the breath of promises wept over decades
"Come find me if darkness sung its refrain and subdued me
Even skinless these ribs will know you ! Lay on, endue in !"
There meads hush their spring's teems;
Bleeding pensile quiet,
Voile jets 'up there nose dive into nothingness to clouds cloaded in daytime blue as I dig my bed beside the rhizome tufts,
The contained thickets of her most jarring madness and sleep beside her
Shrouded in the banks of her dark waters
Combing through nighttides of somnolence I made the habit to fritter in,
In burlesque masks windborning the lineaments the lipless omens sidled the plaster of this shelter.
Down beside this model of worn out luscious beauty
I lay myself to fragments of being
Crazed by the hand her smell tickles
Sycamore and plum tendrils silting my wain propensity
While I finally lay stalk, shoot my spirit in zealty and faith singing my departure;
Hold she sizzling with sighing longing
17/12/2023