Blue China

Zephyrus buttons his coat of dew

and all the morning is in song-

spring captured on an autumnal wind,

sending sweet conundrums to condense

on rosebud lips.  The flowers awaken

in yellow sunrises and spots of maiden’s blood

you and your lover walk

through fields of angel down, puffs

of cotton catch in the briars

like secrets spun in ivory.

 

You guess at what words pass

between a doe and a callous brook

whose waters run near dry,

denying as the grasses’ frost.

 

Does she yearn for days of yore,

when rivers ran fat like butter,

and the sun drifted like a paramore

across a china sky?

 

In this calamity of seasons,

the labyrinth of the forest beckons

like Snow White’s queen disguised,

her shawl heavy on the bower of trees.

 

Your lover will not enter

so you part, a lantern at hand.

 

Broken things crawl forth from

root sepulchres, eroded away

as winter leaves us all bare-

 

the doe of bare bones dances-

 

breath fogs, time slows

in this country of ghosts-

 

the roses sleep.

 

You are left with torn lace and liquor

the color of daguerreotype dreams

alone in the bosom of the woods

you cast promises to the stream.

 

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Cogs and Springs

The ragged comma man

drinks the blood of doves,

scat beating in the alley grime

with oil rainbow dreams.

Punctuating every line with

wistful tainted words,

former glory gibbeted

above his ratty dreads.

Coriolanus called and

left embers of a war

for a king thrown down

from Babel to the

bottom of the sea.

The broken philosopher

drinks requiem tea,

sipping at his memories-

Van Gogh blue and green.

Wolf’s Run

A red moon stands sentinel over the iron zoo

inside are vagrants of the night,

stench of piss and blood

I in my crimson cloak negotiate

with the wolf, he licks his maw

to savor every word.

A click of chains unlocking

the hounds of hell unleashed

psychosis traps you in the maw

of the unthinkable.

Grim flash of tooth like starlight

slick red at my throat

Hell will feast tonight.