Grimoire

 

Early sting of cold on skin & bone,
the blade of dawn is drawn to release,
far from the grime of the greenway's edge,
somewhere blue on the worm-fed wind...

the hubris call of a mockingbird song
is sweetly easing to copperhead sleep...

tossed & turned in shrouds of earth,
faint emerald flames 'neath the canopy chill,
a tree stump prayer with sticks for hair,
a thorn of eyes in the wildling bush...

& the least among us are the beasts among us -
beguiling mourn of battered flesh on stone
by blood language eld in tongues of ice...

frozen glaze from the crimson'd grove,
the site transfixed in scavenger mist...
on sylvan wish this unwary kiss...

{sanities hinge on folderol logics}

contretemps crawl the promising witch,
obnoxious rant from the cauldron boil,
the daisy chains slithering coil in skin,
the dandelion dirt will brim with our bones...

spiral gaze of dimension strain,
devoured in the deep of a desolate sleep -

evening sling of ink & blood on stone,
the ax of night is spattered black.