September 7, 2015

sought candy houses...

<sought candy houses>

revisionist disciples play father god games...
their gambits on patterns perceived 
decide war and famine 
and who better to profit 
by cruelty tome-d 
in curative wells...
its drawn foregone conclusions 
are paired subscriptions to an after-life 
with its limitations written 
into the payouts...

i sing..."don't push me 'cause i'm close to the edge..."

i'll play in shadow traffic 
and suckle upon the breasts 
of the fallen...
these fantasies of mine 
these goddesses 
these nymphs 
these maidens 
and mothers...

oh those cemeteries are keen 
with our arriving fully engaged with the lsd...
scent of velvet is a ground fog 
a whispered mist that clings...

you said this is way better than parking lots 
weeded with the ghosts of theaters past...
the pines trees like being sentinels here, i said...
you smiled, told me to trace my fingers 
over your lips in the dark 
said gently, I already knew 
the map of her October...


1 comment:

  1. You have one "s" too many here: "the pines trees"