Sweet spit in the wound,

as ever, snares a spark.

Oh the covetous lune

where lightening strikes

an escaping heart.

Cart and beat

trot and sweet

rippling, crippling

stepped in it steep.

Excavating n-jins

like ears of corn

hungers mystical

edgeless endlessness

broken into like a magical storm.

Sunk into my knees

with a scorching flood of light

a side of red

gear box, bled

and to its bungee,

the cryptic knot tied.

Contagions of avoirdupois

at heavens rim

and pride of sin

a dark sweet spot.

Recursive, candle bombs

roaming rimming

booming zooming

fraught fought and plot–

Goes a long way

lasts, a lot.

Visits: 76

Comments

One response to “Boudin Noir”

  1. zortilonrel

    I like this site so much, saved to fav. “Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.” by Peter De Vries.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.