Infinite is the Light,
the ecstasies and horn of Aurora's
fair the haze across flutes
with ice melody's perfection.
Winter's blade passes
with the shades
of a waterfall's frozen ardor
for the wind hides a radiant choir
and the verse longs below the wound.
My bone illusions gallop and sweep
the soul garden beneath the tide
and hidden roses hear flesh
lyres in green muscled curtains.
Mystery burning tower of myself,
truth cantatas when he kisses
and licks the music
of my human salt.
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.