Small Hours

Eros hung from the true cross half-blinded

“Bring sweet-breads and water,” he plied.

In my dream-vigil

cranes carried love to his lips-

and soft, like an angel, he sighed.


Mice bore down on Love’s bindings,

he gave me his Harlequin mask,

we played charades under the moonlight

letting the small hours pass.




Dawn left trails of linen across the sky

feathered in angel down, I glanced

off rain drops that mirrored a thousand seas


In their multitude I saw the face

of every desire Man had dreamed

all coalesced in iced clarity,

I searched for a shard of my own


The skies set fire, and the plains of

shattered glass cut deep

into my feet


It took a moment to fall

eternity to reach

and now, I am stuck


Four and Twenty Blackbirds

The poison-maker lowers draughts into bubbling blue,

inky black like the dead men’s coves in Styx’s sea,

his hair coils like Dionysos in locks braided with secrets

I have in my hands a string of bloody teeth.


Gums bleeding, I surrender to Python’s bite-

Raven rises from the bubbling concoction

foul-winged and downy-chested with rain

acid drips on the horizon.


I am lost in the Dreaming.


Apollon Poison-Maker

ate my heart.


We dance in ash and madmen

skin charred, I roast for the king.