every ‘parole’s a prisoner in this road
half-hacked knights where your word was
ringing over teemed up rumpus rooms
brokered by silver fish and dawn its each window
which costs the death of your lace
not your hand-held curtains beckoning my call
its that my call? a trumpet making merry dawn
busked by stage dusked by day or death’s mighty pal
a tumbrel wrecking your gracious dawning
misdemeanours of what you’ve seen
rare as your body was in this golden air
over sanctuary and miles of well placed rapid
going messenger
hold your horse fire forest dear one
its nearly spring here in dark night
when young like petals you prayed to a whoopee god
Priapus and his many metals
tangled by briars and necklaces of your body
legendary as any cape
you imagined distance is a candle which kills
it does it does it do do do as soft black
wears napped covers veiling her feet
come as my lover burnoused as any tribe
wearing the trinket of her sigh
your scarlet hips know this tongue
better than any imaging
its yours if you calll
