a Sparrows kiss on Aphrodite\'s lips
pink prayers bloom
with foolish ghoul beneath concrete of the sun.
resisting the ways of the Wyles!
more dead than blanket waves
more dead than chicken beak on wingless catch;
in visual pursuit upon the dirt beyond the groin;
with Owls claw on trowels about the shaft
focused on the reel
the reeling in of butchers knives about the scented laugh
now blessed upon the breeze
where toils the shell of Turtle tongue around the hidden path
where coils the spring of elbows jaw beneath the Whales of craft;
this market of the sea, now stands to stretch it\'s legs to bargain me;
a pound for the Conch in it\'s shell? -but if only in it\'s shell-
would I ever choose to boil it in the oils of such despair;
I will bypass the well dressed Krill
now I have caught the eye of Seahorse in her bloomers of pale brown
where stands proud three kings of Prawn each with their money down;
how exited now my loose coins in my pockets of the Crab!
as they set about the Mussels from the Goddess of the slab;
is this my process of recession or my progression in the game?
it just seems sometimes in Winter\'s lust still falls a Summer rain.
is it true when comes a minor loss, so to comes greater gain?
perhaps, with Aphrodite\'s kiss, I will appreciate the pain;