There was two
tawny coppers,
peering behind her boughs
draped on sun-speckled
throat & shoulders.

Breasts, provident bronze
stilled like tacit fruit,
a vernal frame.

Her scentless scent,
poison in mute resonance,
poised in the graceful thought of night.

The moment prior to the bloom.
Earth & partisan parts
captured in muted symphony,
sending themselves about her;
their angelic center.

A sudden flit,
as cautious deer spooked
jet for the woods.
Green spotlight reflections
glint white & vaporize
behind each lash.

Burning auric fingers
briskly exchange
touch to incinerating chill.

With all the blood
in my body rushed,
fantastic plumes
from bell of the brain
through veins un-rung,
slowly purchasing frequency,
taking heavy sound to silence.


*   *   *


…was  masochism,
modest, delicate.
processed aesthetic
through the rose coloured glasses
and as my brain produced endorphins
was kissed with thoughts virgin to creation.

These blessed tortures
floated down like manna,
sopping honeycomb,
bee-less, fatted amber
in dying sunlight.

Her reflections red,
spark-rutty hazel
off the dusk through her trees,
stole brief moments in our cipher,
present & gone between us 
in wisps of smoke.

Pour La Dame de Mouches sur le Event Horizon:


“Que le ciel sombre nuit sans étoiles mitrailler
vos yeux rougeoyants de chambre.
Comme en remuant maelström cosmique
ceux perles de sable va briller.

Autoriser les yeux d’ébène flagrantes, de la grâce
confinés si sombre et si sage,
leer capturé incandescence;
cet univers meurt aujourd’hui.”

Ses sécrète regard d’ornement,
remplissages noirci océans comme elle pleure,
et congelés, une sorte retraites cardiaques
trop froid, trop noir pour nourrir les mouches.

To The Lady of Flies on the Event Horizon:

“Let starless dark night skies strafe
your glowing chambered eyes.
As stirring maelstrom cosmos
those sable pearls will shine.

Grant ebon glaring eyes, grace
confined so dark and wise,
leer captured incandescence;
this universe now dies.”

Her ornamental gaze secretes,
fills blackened oceans as it weeps,
and frozen so, a heart retreats
too cold, too black to nourish flies.