postcards

gathering stones
for
a
cemetery
child
to
call
her
own

liquid applause(refined)

yer
knees
will
be
slippery
by
the
time
that
we're
through

abducting persius

you sink your fences
into sand and clamp down on
nameless lovers reckoning
with your blind ambition
sharpening swords
to hurtle across aboriginal plains
for the glory of pronouncing
yerself a man, a god, a king
of a crumbling facade
but no stars will bear your name
when the silver slinging fairies
wipe the swollen tears of bleached centuries
from the original face of eve

three sheets of ivory kin

them thorns and
this hammer are worn from
wearin' you