Hits and runs
the midnight sun.
Mining pining
winds of oblivion
gusting through displacements
transversing
fire and death.
Sirens trill and tires rant
quix oats full of lov
risking life for death
and the shouting mad.
Here comes. The bad.
Jolts reflect
the tinkling tinkling dualities
skinning across the surface
a sweeping array
of larkness darkness starkness.
To root out
the sword down my throat?
At heart an indulgence
breaking out between my fingers.
Turning tricks in your hand.
Booty and the moody
a pig bed with gold
I am told.
Like drinking sacred
bottled blood
as relics of woe.
Loosen loosen the horror
outflank it with ardor ?
Racing through murderous lulls
the mussing takes hold
breathless inhabit
the rolled cold fold.
Bucketing down.
Fire engulfing.
Sweet soaring sodden
spirit of sheep
sleeping with angels
devil turns it
into a rabbits foot
sounding alarms
loot shoot the messenger.
Stalk the amber-yellow
floods and drains
saw-horses toppling
into an open casket
case of basket
over the water
fall fall fall.
How windmills enthrall
like a fight for justice.
Soddered to the skylights
packaged and weighed.
Dancing with death
with love and pain.
Resilience and the arcane.
Its dust and shadow
hurling at furies
that brood up
against the edgeless.
To eek out
a riding hood
for me and my mole
where infinity
gapes
at the uncountable.
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