Celandine
- Signora Corvus
Deadbolt eyes of diamond spy us climbing arduously, vines of the dead.
Watch from afar through the cracks in your palms as
Venus becomes just one of nine harlots in their evocable orbits
and
with tridents of metaphor penetrate
our indolent reflections as they lazily genuflect in
cloud cuckoo lands quadrillion pools of molten lava.
Surprise will breath on the bride of Pleiades
in ghost notes
cited in cliff notes
despite her wax red lips turn tricks in the tidy tips
every lunar and solar eclipse.
A whip---north, south, and frantic,
as asteroid belts squirm between the cleavage of her toes.
Dutch guts are dealt as snap dragons in Stetsons and sap-gloves
tighten the pikes on my bible belt with a zealous reckless abandon.
Just wait until she plants a nice frigid gun-powdered kiss
on the frailty of your bloodstream and leaves hurriedly
in the middle of the night without her clothes.
Crystal skulls, mouth breathers, and marigolds,
cherry moles, cultures built around the automobile and mystery religions...
I gamble heedlessly with your future.
I arabesque in the baby blue industriousness of your moral virtue
and revive reapers so they may r e p o the cruelty of your affection.
Darling there will always be room for you, to breathe the breath of the deadweight.
Deadbolt eyes of diamond spy us climbing arduously, vines of the dead.
Watch from afar through the cracks in your palms as
Venus becomes just one of nine harlots in their evocable orbits
and
with tridents of metaphor penetrate
our indolent reflections as they lazily genuflect in
cloud cuckoo lands quadrillion pools of molten lava.
Surprise will breath on the bride of Pleiades
in ghost notes
cited in cliff notes
despite her wax red lips turn tricks in the tidy tips
every lunar and solar eclipse.
A whip---north, south, and frantic,
as asteroid belts squirm between the cleavage of her toes.
Dutch guts are dealt as snap dragons in Stetsons and sap-gloves
tighten the pikes on my bible belt with a zealous reckless abandon.
Just wait until she plants a nice frigid gun-powdered kiss
on the frailty of your bloodstream and leaves hurriedly
in the middle of the night without her clothes.
Crystal skulls, mouth breathers, and marigolds,
cherry moles, cultures built around the automobile and mystery religions...
I gamble heedlessly with your future.
I arabesque in the baby blue industriousness of your moral virtue
and revive reapers so they may r e p o the cruelty of your affection.
Darling there will always be room for you, to breathe the breath of the deadweight.
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1 comment:
It's nice to see I am still the muse to your wordy writing habits, though cleverly disguised... I know it's about me... There is no need to plant the caution signs out there for my lover.. I have no intention of pulling any triggers.. And I doubt he'd throw me out in a three year old tantrum's fit in the middle of the night because of name calling.
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