del sagrado corozon

Pulley is rhyme

that accretes like slough

carries me off

 

toes sunk in at edge

where sand makes mud

 

and up, it comes

the plank piratical

up to nose and noose

 

lusts for breaking things

battered and loose.

 

The hidebound,

holy wounded

 

ancient hinge —

dead ends in stacks and stacks

 

del sagrado corozon 

horror and stern

like an iron mask.

 

Morning light

releases a refugee

 

blows like a fire eater

into the overbright.

 

Hostages provocateur

infiltrate, as incoming

 

treachur-ly empaths,

stalk the undone.

 

As madness –

a money dread

graces killing the sun.

 

Yet scruples extol,

like chess-with-death, flower

 

bandy and bounty

bad birds bright into bed

 

where near misses (like kisses)

ring out the undead.