Wednesday, January 22, 2014

The Day of the Cold-Blooded Murderer Who Addresses His Dog


You see Dog the holy mecca for divine
Sadists is a haunted playground motionless
Under dead lids of innocent children flags
Of flesh and high wall of teeth naked feet
To open empty eyes and steps echo down
Corridors and staircases that lead to the pool
Laced within my heart the metamorphosis
Of blue snakes amazed by my singular guitar
And spreading swans’ wings in a public square
Suddenly turning as though to bite themselves
But no they’re content at the sound of terrible
Children charmed and marching to my song
Each nigh it is written on God's white wrist
The branches blossom between my shoulders

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