Poetica Spontenaium 1.26.04
It’s been too long.
In a ripple cycling forward
Like my head unto a pillow
A lip bite to your shoulder
Which was an accident, I mistruthed.
Confidence was a jade ring
Passing light from caressed angles
Murderous Midnight at the slightest
Tearing flesh and stone in the force of fist
Should I deny my contradiction
To jellybeans of consternation
Thorns stuffing pillows on my hammock
dragons tending fawns upon my brow
Secrets give pleasure only in the telling
And knives, only in their silky cuts
My words tangling two hairs and a cosmos into knots
And behaving as simply as now.
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