purple nude 2

Raids of Grain

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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