The ribbon of despair
curled around the outstretched head
which threw in various poses
the shadows of regret
and the wild outside
was a smiling grin of lust
coiled on the face
of the one.
A rhythm of tufted shoots
fell from the ceiling panes
embedded in the plasterwork
and told the hungry listener
the personal interflow
of the shot-back idea
the glistening truth
of the one.
Eyes roasted tenderness
in the great fly bitten
solitude which followed us behind
never caring or crying
in savage anticipation
of ingested wealth
the raised eyelid
of the one.
Time to pause
wait hardly stirring
dream of antique space
the fin circles bound
chronologically in tune
the singing of the grass
and the soundless thrum
of the one.
dream of antique space
the fin circles bound
chronologically in tune
the singing of the grass
and the soundless thrum
of the one.
Fly like a high bird
flick thought aside sparkle
the reaches of lightness
flattering stale bleak
hills with lancing
beams a constant glow
the silver silence
of the one.
Shriek sly battlefields
break a landscape freely
suck the earth loud moth
flutter in the spread
seek the wind the proud
cringe of the skies
the dusty shooting cough
of the one.
