I Have Driven Green This Age Where Muscles Dry

what nuance this in image now betrayed

a plague of dust through nettles of the eyes

taller than the stairs that brought us here.

 

a prelude to the sons of seven chimes

that ring each tune of time through severed light.

of all undone now twists immortal tales

forever life where drops the shallow tides

through early dawn to where the heavens hang;

 

I have driven green this age where muscles dry

slept beneath the stars in salted shade

with broken bread on a sea of salmon's thighs

where windows spin loves tempers with their knives.

 

each clock that ticks it's second hand of fate

to cliffs too white to worship from afar.

I have seen the pulse of summer as she fades

deep inside one quarter of a mile.

 

it is here where leaping hearts of seeping wounds

walk  trails to unaccompanied release

to suckle on the pale white breast

of the thistle as she sleeps;