harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
everyone but me -- a white lamb of godly proportions lost in the jaw of your mint mouth; serve me up, sorcerer sent my two legs spent, washing line pegs you open them wide and see what's inside: red roses posed pressed like what exactly ; a freckle here and hair there ; saying magical spells like this to the wells and whys i wound a wound around my calf for it, that cry of i was a little too much, for red rushes i did rage, everyone but in their hollow hazes and your eye clitorally precise on me on the lace of my shoe, i was all ways how could i not know -- everyone but a nebular nubile bride watched the necromancer wash my iris white .
(2nd December 2018)
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