how many secrets surplus to a plot?
ill-gotten gains now tick-tock in a knot;
be dammed and sleep through supper on a breast
that weaves sublime a tapestry of jest;
knuckles cracked and bleeding heavens sake
river levels higher than the stubble on my chin.
occult or diamonds secondary skin?
I know not which disciple second-guessed
or lived all summer long with the lizard in a dress;
bless me blind as drunkard in a circus as a clown
watch me drown
in tortoise shell in my brothers wedding gown;
come visit me on Sundays with a half-moon and a scythe.
this town my own
outgrown the bubbles steeper than a noun
that spells one hypocrite inside the belly of a frown;
my sparrow-hawk
three fingers and a thumb
with foreskin bright
as cheerful as a letter in a box
who swims all seven oceans with a plague of chickenpox!
sleep silent as the freckles on your chin
swallows whole the landscape where within;
how many spiders came and dined as lovers crossed?
not me, I am an atheist, born and fed
on liver boiled in the valley of the dead;
compass north
the road to somewhere dull as I am weak
speak whisper now the god of sleep
begs silence in the courtyard of the meek;