Milking the Witch. Burning! burning high, upon her altar, Stoking blazing beacons for the broken, She weaves andsacan magic Deep into the folds of her jet-black cloak. Adorned with rough head-dress of oak mystically warped, Spiked rosewood hoops hang around her neck, piercing and scarring her pale, waxy skin. She unveils her breasts, brimming with…
Clouds churlishly crab Across shy cyan horizons Crying cool, clear tears.
Sonnet XIII. If I were to whatever forever while cinematic backgrounds still play on, no one, not one person whatsoever, would listen to me or my mellotron. Maybe if I strip naked, dance in time, and paint my skin a deep orangish tint, be naughty with water pistol and slime, pepper them with glitter and…
Clustered clouds Drift like cannon smoke Split bare by bluster.
I used to think that I could hope. A hope that draws a dreamy sigh. Inject it like some creamy dope And feel it creeping to the high. But now I know that hope is lost. I lost it as I stupefied. Addiction brought cascading cost That crippled as I slowly died.
Rings chase each other Across silty grey stagnant Standing water features.
Marvellous flexing aura, In constant change, Bring us closer to truth. In truth, in wild yonder, We wonder under The illuminating blanket Warming the winter sky, Hopefully to thaw Any unnatural selections, Any unbalanced equations That twist like those visual strands Across the arctic horizon. Let it lead us And bring us into equilibrium, Holding…
Trees gradually rust Like an old iron gateway Leading to winter.
Surfing the tables, burning A pocketful of puff, Rough, off the cuff, And curling, the table turning. Rolling in dough, for show, Encrusting the rings, Every day’s things On the street-worn skid-row. And there’s beef and a fat reef, The wisps caressing the lung And lines lined up among The brief relief from the grief….
The sky, clear and clean, Like a bed with fresh linen, Empty and cold.