In the light
in the sun,but not the same one
In her shadowed filament
where stays the willows
is her tear stained lovers
Blood,in scarlet fills thy soul
A thrill in my bones
like stars dipped in rain
of slippery silver kisses
To bury the summer sun
In green tea mochi
between my jaw of sesame
in the settle of ebony
at a burning sky
Inside the casket of powdered smoke
Ashes...to lavender
Dust...to indigo
bloodless/loveless
in the trace of winters edge
with secret tales read at dusk
untouched by eyes
to usullied nights
till luner casts a Snowdop
upon a body without love
a bed unwed
By sapphire cuticles
in the pruned vertebrae
fragile ghost skinned
like the tangled peach in your hands
alone nature weeps
poison ivy on frostbite
at the cease of sulking leaves
to an August moon
of silk and velvet
In the evanescence of sunrise anxiety
without atonement to the crimson sludge
in a parade of stuck sisters
of smeared lipstick
to the cassia inside there hearts
with faded smiles below feather signs
in the torn nightdress
at the fair maidens feet
the poetess of the dark
like a corpse silent
Precious is beauty in onyx combs
for the alignments of incensed vails
to garland the brows of either
to clutch the choker of the necks
at the damsels carafe
a vessel to the umbrella
beneath the ruptured cloud of insistent agony
dripping and sipping blue woe
next to the moon and her marigold glow
to flow a lemon sound
long enough to dwell
in suckle shores
in the dim