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Sweeping bonedust from the temple of the mind
A papyrus perused last June which took root inside now leaves Screed hath sewn seeds this field mine, a king place like Thebes In the secret room in the pharaoh’s tomb, awaiting His music My mind imbued with the tomb’s selfsame sacral solitude.
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The moment of the bomb
Brothers feuding, duelling, to the last trumpet’s tune Strumpets strewn in gutters, plootered on glue, age of Pluto Fire consumed everything, ash upon it all Black snowfall cascade, the flesh coming undone, sloughing away at touch Like an eight minute mic’d crumpet gushing butter One last crushing blow, then an age-long stillness Windless moment forever…
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Christ of the loneliness
Three days newsless, this wet cave became a refuge in a way. They came to get you but I refused, Would not allow them to subdue you Jewel of the Jews, the Prophet’s oldest newest muse The oldest game’s most recent move Wily Engineer’s best upsleeved ruse Finally, I can answer yes when callers ask…
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Gardenchild
A yew strangely reposed, yet no less stately Gorgeous rose razor throated A sacred few knelt by a pool Guards closed in and The Youth ran and his linen unspooled Running naked fool; running naked fugitive A huge, deluge-wielding moon cast Gethsemane in gloom.
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Lost writ wrist-written
Typing up my antitypes Hidden gospels behind the light Bound angels in rapid flight Ready for the final fight Wings of fire outspread, golden flecked the prayer hectored night In the fumes of drug induced fugues, drawing down the moon Begging for boons, skills in illusions that rude minds deluge.
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