from DARKLING (1)
The sea is one nocturnal emphasis:
I speak to you across distances like a code
in war. The mothers of the universe are your whores.
I am your daughter, and you are roses in bloom.
I know this because I was an empty blossom
holding your tongue in eclipse. Science doesn’t attempt.
I am a fighter in the flight for fancy
and Lolita limps to my lights. I am drunk on the wine of song:
the ships of ghost wars fight and kiss your lips
with the redness of lustful season.
from DARKLING (2)
I know you like the visions of Mary
and the archangels who storm the eyes.
Everything I am is born of your love:
assay, great in ecstasy.
We are Romans in pissing pleasure
while the ancients sell their wares
in the exotic heights…
yet the tracks are unknown
and the Promised Land is made of thunder again.
You can’t sing when your nights are lost.
I am not smoking song
and I invite comparison.
Skeleton keys cannot open your secret chambers;
the wounds of destiny are left to fester like moss in clay.
