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Word - Sold Your Inflamed Nights
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Toddle into My Satin Slippers
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Alan
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Toddle into My Satin Slippers
Affluent beam peeps
Fatal chant into my sleep
Cradles golden frames
Patches a pocketful of sky
Borrows the eastern hue
Weaves morning smiles
Skeleton of shivering wind
Passaged into your vein
Organza tie plucks the dew
Scabbed love bud overnight
Twiddles twiddles
Sweet little forsythia feet
Toddles into my satin slippers
Winged letters, feet of sky
Placid mate of cupid string
Finally, you come, my spring!
What merciless dreams were!
Doomed canvas
Piteous colours
I ripped your radian bramble
Smeared into the skulls
Tainted hangman’s skulls
Thrum of cello sacrum’s torn glory
Hanged you as a happy mirror
Mornings, Mornings
Painted lips, yams of blood
Borrowed tears cast aside
Smiled with mulling emulation
Goner petals were painfully bold
I swiped their tinted melody
Longed to paint hued pain again—
Midst, Yarra combed her glossy
Glories shivered into her mist
O, fortress of mahogany legs
Lioness claws guarded in her gate
Drunk with the hyperbolic silence
Quarter of moon painted toenails
Drown her in my shelved sea
Cut the deep gullet, pitched dark
Hoping I could dagger
The precise laurelled glory
But, O yes
Beast rose from ancient ashes
Bleeding vision in her vein
Hooded spine of wings
Dipper Ritual eastern valley
Claws in her avid womb
Strode into dark alleys
Gleaning hours stuffed into a coffin
Bier-carriers rode on neon flowers
Sodomised chaos crushed mute
Creviced virgin flower nightly cunt
Prowled haunted shadows
Listened lover’s exorcise sighs
Stole deadman’s mad cantos
Grooved no-man’s land
Throw the sky around, then
O, Moment paused on a shackle--
O, I will crack fresh bud skulls
Twined into a hoard in my heart
Splurge blood into four corners
Chief of your foreteller
Greeting your love, the gift
12/09/04, 10; 56am
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