From the Cashew dough and nerves
Of Gold and Onyx gossamer
A veinless shell excretes curves
That fornicate with the soundless air;
Spontaneous, filling as it sinks
Into the infinitum of a seed,
The eternal adolescent thinks
Of the enslaved, coiled breed
Which seduces all apprehension
To recollections of a soul’s tension,
(Now contrived to an intention)
Learnt by a child’s invention,
His hairs and freckles, of a crown
Interlocked through the brown
Iron drapes, swinging above his frown
Of Violet, splitting the Pan’s and Tea-bags of a Town
That floods and rusts with the liquor of a mashed skull,
Spontaneous, sinking as it’s full…
Comments1
handle things on the mantle
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