Tag: the sun
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In the solar
Mugging the sun at knifepoint. Up close, in the pocket with Apollo, Until my cooked eyes run like liquid birds from cloven eggs. Black as old potbottoms, no more than shell holes, Issuing listless smoke in storm-redolent spirals.
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The hateful sun’s tongueblistering hymns
To taste the SunSon, I sucked vinegar and blood from the sponge A cackling Roman forced the wincing Christ to suck for succour. Older than the bog’s butter the names I must mutter Dark splutters which muster summonable others. When She sings, however shrilly, leathery wings begin to flutter In some divorced and gushing void…