not since the last November rain
words of trees in throats of dancing Magpies
nestled with the north wind in plagues of rice
on naked breasts of imported ivory;
cracked and free of faceless charm
free of the tasteless blood from Sparrows hammer
chains of thoughts twisted and strangled in closet screams
still lost with the orbiting clowns in skies of timid cheer;
Mother of the playful pearl in her green unbottoned blouse
crawled with soldiers wounds through skinless winter leaves
between the swollen eyes of the drag queen and his masturbating rat
between the hormones of his fruitless orange flesh;
not since the last November ploughed
through tortured sperm of ruptured Porcupine
have I dared to hiss and kiss at the carnival of dancing doubt
or pirate my charade in my uniform of transparant anxiety;
not since the last November rain
have I dared to close my eyes and die again;