when once was nothing more than just.
infant grounds for the old scream
crusting the mellow of my laboured crawl.
long days beneath the minutes song
stringed arms for the stretching of my lame mood
fresh feet for the rising of a wind thigh through my stride
when once,
as the cruel sea parted with my last vein
so I die alone on the curse of a white whales sap;
when twice through the seaweed of the grasp
coined hands starving the slots of my tail
as the frail fingers of my bitter corpse
strokes one virgin star
as the mother to her lame tail on a crabs tongue
flickers with the fibres of vegan lips on a red meat mist
fisting the papers of my dove note droll
oiling the fountain of my salmon
releasing the ashes of my dead rose
so I sink with the treasures of the reef;
when once was nothing more
than just brail air on the hairs of my page
than just a ripe spoon on a stale breast
a furball for the kittens of the waves throat
as now floats the semen of my scalp;
when once was twice of something less
when I tasted death and stomached a pleasured pain
gained knowledge and feathered the father of my teach
reached for the scars.
lost love
but drowned a better man;