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.


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