Pure poetry for you

for autumn.

autumn is death

for the play in numbers

finding joy in places

of brilliant creation.

autumn is death

with a straight razor

at the throat of a plump gazelle

or boar, stealing life

from worthlessness.

autumn is life

within death

a voice of succulent

maliciousness

in her marrow

of midnight danger.

autumn brings me

dandelions and calla lilies

in fanciness

in happiness

and in death.

***********************************

unnamed.

humbles bodies bound to the sheets

and tablets

of my youth

I am setting them to

their freedom

drenched in the

dreary dances of martyrs,

tiptoeing promises by

way of thy

turquoise inkwells

and cranberry dreams.

Sangria in the sands.

************************************

Commune

Quiet rains on the little children

feigning stillness, their minds

running the quarter-mile track as

antsy fingers drum on pews.

They will know darkness once again.

Intangible knowledge of the

original love and death

roses and apples

red wine in little cups

for the little children bathed in white

before midnight comes

the midnight will come

the midnight has come

the white will turn to black

will turn to red

ruby blood in little cups

raining on the little children.

**************************************

Thunder Oath

Gin

rivers flowing upstream in the briskness

Gimme a light, he will scream into the wind.

I will hold him close, the small fire of ash burning

Deepness

Into me.

Forgive the moment

I wanted tonic

In my life

You were worth knowing too.

Creature hangs in midair

To choke retorts

In Greek to the masses

Gimme a light, he will whisper to the whore

But there is no light to be held

in her breasts.

Only death.

Christen the fortune

Of men who knew life in her arms

For they are spared in the ecstasy

Of dreams.

One who knows death

Can never know pain.

They will down in the rivers of

Gin

barreling upstream.