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What Neptune’s Oceans cannot clean
Black and unmoving as frozen fuel, Is it feuding dust upon my ill-adjusted aperture? Lust’s rust upon the eye, Or has some crusted shambler finally sighted the throat he’ll die to crush? To die, to love. To live, too much. My gloved life glibly lived I am he Whom just sleep eludes.
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Headgear
An egg nest of old helms Set in alcoves, web realms Grilled bird asylums. The awesomely silent World of someone else’s wife’s curls. Do not return upon completion, and burn this assignment, The sin of Simon, the din of wage exchanged for title.
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A yellow heath
The yellow glow of rude health Dried blood barcodes my face Colourless all red, save slight eyewhite Like a patch of grass-pocked snow in a ditch the sun never hits I live there and always will Stem which never wilts finally gives. If I scream she will think me less manly and I will leave…
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Salted beautiful
Across the table She blocks a shot, as only lacrosse players are able Decisions to make like the end of an episode of First Dates Menu perusal offers a flimsy stasis; The man I scored against during our Christmas truce Tomorrow I will aim blow away. This month, too many stars in Mars to avoid…
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Duel measurer
My deloping heart ere first to fire Love a cold fire low and constant Two shot harts loping in concert Circling their killer, painting bloody loops Carving furrow by dragging hoof. My heart aloof A fast starter Woofs at bark, I target The wrong tree. Braced, face covered ‘Gainst resultant sparks
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Alchemisland 