to accommodate this mind.
lost in sulphur
brighter than the fig of no domain
where eyes of man stream endless
to exist through hibernation.
no contact made through food of sudden thought.
a world of deepest sleep
wakes it\'s dead through the heart of rook and blide.
be born again in deserted cenotaph
a latter-day saint the second time when asked
to second-guess the second time we grow.
who knows which is brighter than a word.
let rave the dance of leprechaun and ghost
they are precious, they are tin
kindling for the fires of the heart.
where starts so ends the envy of it all.
no more this touch of spite, this cutting edge.
there is water here, somewhere
between the lilly and the rose
where heaven hides no secrets, holds no fears
to accommodate this mind
unapposed.
in the wake of what remains.