by night\'s secluded light
black rook of more a latter day escape.
at home among the daisy chains
with my leeopard spots and the beauty of a yawn.
I have come home ill-prepaired
my mothers milk in uniform
from a waterfall
she was as tall as I was white
hip hip hooray!
again I take no blood
nor do I suckle honey
from your frozen breasts of honeycomb and chives.
flowers but no butterflies
no doomsday priest
with water in his lung.
it is November, I am hungry.
am now aware of a mother\'s wilderness.
she politely asked I cut my throat
in her room with smiles as bright as death allows.
her blue whale bones
her blue veins breathing treacle through a straw.
what more I ask of Elizabeth now gone?
she is still here
still-born in an annexe made of wax.
her yellow stain of Autumn
be gone before the ending of a year.
I have less courage than the jesus you aniont
with my bipolar walking home from church.
should I be caught by the ten pins of your lair
brush you hair
and kiss your forehead
twenty thousand times!