Tag: poet
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Feel it in my bones
Evil in my marrow, in my gore, inheriting the impaler’s title Vision narrows like a foreshortening arrow before goring your visor I’m awake with the owls and foxes Moon like a stained glass copy of itself Head in a box, no return address to doxx Now comes the hour, this time is ours Cock that…
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Fisher King
The wounded king emerges from a cave, leaning on a gnarled staff His steps like stones of queer effulgence tattoo with light earth’s face So that his graceful way might be easily traced or aped, at measured pace He walks all the way from the mountainous place to the marketplace He longs the exalted altar…