I Have Never Seen a Ghost So White

I have never seen a ghost so white

as white as matter twisting through a dawn.

a dawn for Ox to ravish only snow.

low tide alive and kicking like a fish,

I dared to kneel to mingle with the manner ill-conceived;

coincidence or planned I cannot guess of who or who,

a morning sun of sedative 

white sea alive and ticking second hand,

second hand to widows tears of he of high command;

like shadow to the fog

an arctic kick through the cancer of the cold,

cold day of light

I have never seen a ghost so white

white fever through the mourning mouths as still as I kneel hollow.

sorrow comes as salt-mine through the arches of the neck

a freckled fig begs Hamlet route a lesser tragedy

a tragedy with colour through the eye-balls of unseen.

no holy house am I

nor am I ever-present in the room of tapping feet.

how real is day now conversation lost?

all stars are crossed

as crossed as I now turned and tossed complete!

featureless as blindfold to a scroll

the burning wood of Valentine

no longer burns it's whispers straight and true;