The Clink Of Keys In The Dreaming Echo Where Oceans Bare Not

Barbed And Killing Its Mystery,
Dragging A Hump Dry Across The Aisle Between Pews,
Then To Creep With The Setting Shift Of Fadeing Day
Up ALong The Tapestry And Its Symbiotic Knottings,
Prying With Relentless Edge To Slide Wet And Peeling Under Its Borrowed-True Walls,
Whispering With A Throbbing Null... Worming Its Way To The Pinnacled Arch,
InTo The Golden Touches Of Nuance Amongst The Mistletoe And Apertured Revulsion,
As Cups With Their Swords Collect For Hollow Tooth And Claw,
To Strip The Dancers Below Of Their Spirited Fetish...
...
...
Then With Threads To Descend Wordlessly InTo Hysteria,
UnLocking Each Hand Of Its Life... To The Lines... For Geists As Gists...
...
...
A Cemetery For Elementary Bearers Under Universeal Laws,
When It Be Fit To Sleep Under The Assureing Heft Of A Slitting Fold
Down-Adorned InTo Comfort And Its Symbolic Clotheings,
Spying With Eye Pressed To Chaliced Raise To Set When Splitting APart As Will Arrowed-Through,
Dulling The Thistle Of Its Bobbing Fill... Emergeing As Knighted To The Collapsed March,
Exiting With A Cacophonous Stumble InTo The Face-Grease And Staggered Impulse,
As Armed, Lipped, And Worded-Direct For Shallow Grave And Stone,
To Strap The Singers Above To Their Desperate Flesh.

The Emperor Knew It Was Closeing

Go... As Constantine InTo The Colosseum,
UpOn The Weakening Necks Of Serpentine Gods...
...
...
Spiralling Staircases Winding Down InTo The Eras Of Haste,
You Will Find Slick Boroughs And Stick Men,
With Sticky Meat Piled High On Market-Placed Altars,
Sweet Poison Wafting From Shuttered Cracks,
Catatonic Stoneings And Old Fashioned Barterings,
There Is No Sky... Only Wires And Rain OverHead,
One Thing Or The Other To Stab InTo Your Jacket And Slice Off A Chunk,
The Tribes There Have Their Prophets Etched InTo Their Clocks And Closets...
...
Shrines With Back-Doors Leading To Deeper Markets,
Their Salesmen Have No Lips... And So They Sell No Romance,
A Crumbleing Recess With The Occasional Murmur Of Fadeing Light,
And If You Linger A Minute Too Long... The Light Becomes A Sliver...
...
Embeds ItSelf  InTo You...
...
...
...
Then The Door Shuts... Locks Tight,
All BeComes As It Was BeFore... Hidden From What Was Above,
And The Only Thing Giveing Off A Glow...
...
Is You.

Half-Masted For Days Yet To Be Made ANew

A Nest...
...
...
Invaded FathomLess,
Spitting Images... Fractured Sapphire-Blue,
Spacious Sporadic Spontaneity...
...
...
Inverted MeaningLess,
Vexing Sight... Cataract Ruby-Red,
Capricious Cumulative Conceit...
...
...
Isolated ThoughtLess,
Sucking Sense... Impacted Diamond-White,
Deciduous DumbFounded Deified...
...
...
...