how can i grieve a sectioned man who once,
crawled upon the seething of my blood
as his wrought iron gate
nested with a shore-line pack of city thieves.
waterbrain and fire stalls
on gods deserted skulls of hemorrhoid
flowerded the sugar of his groin
and towered the raven of his smell.
how can i grieve a folklore skunk who twice,
raped my ribs and chewed my postlethwaite bone
toned the muscles of my leek
beat the whistling prayers of our sisters fountain drum
as the red meat of my charcoal child
coloured the pages of my horse drawn hook
painted my movement in a still.
entrapment or a self inflicted wound?
mahogany or a cheap wood chase in an extra virgin oil?
hollow the silence of my hand-stitched shoes
walked once along the trail across the hedgerow of your scythe;
too many times have i died inside your crisis!
how can i grieve for a golden silkworm three nights cold?
as now webbs my cotton jaw with spiders teeth.
no grieving heart i know of,yet
has died before the court of an angel crab in a death row wig
with a laced fig dressed with a bull horns dust
whose sentenced lines in a tree-horse barn two decades tall
while soldered to the soul of a brothers vowels and permissive consonants