Wednesday, December 28, 2011

it hovers under there, in a blanket of mist

Your genome misting smeared on a thickened goblet must of red
is near to mean that revelations are yet possible but partly sealed,

mostly apart from the little drib of saliva glisten left again revealed
when, certainly, all you wanted was that perfect quench of dread

to pitch away into the heavenly green of candle flames gem tossed
under a waving horizon of jagged black teeth lost on broke slopes,

searching for a purple chord that can reign in harmonious tropes
so not yet again a formal sonata with fiery canon is barkly mossed

with velvet greenery grown upon the antler budding sophomores,
who, from the gaunt wolf that howls up from the needles a granite

slab where worship is expected, groan silver dew to black night
in the foggy mystery that wisps and purrs in pineapple spheres.


  1. quite the ambitious internal rhyme... wow.
    as usual, thoughtful juxtaposing and intriguing closures.... always a pleasure to see your craft.

    nice pic, btw....
    happy new year.

  2. @Akeith: I appreciate you comments and continued reads because I admire your work so much. Thank you.

    @Harlequin: Ha! I assume you mean my beaver hat. What can I say? I am a complete knucklehead. At least I'm aware of it. Thanks for still reading this nonsense. :-)