none heard the battle
of the cicada's song-cry*
  *that they belong dead.

Alorè, she-winged orb,
     *Aidenn's story,
As of ev'ry of all stars absorb
   Moorish wars and glory.

Dulcet wings she tether,---
  Mighty kinsmen grayed
By unlocking clean of her
   Beauty's Bridesmaid.

  In each pearling Note
    As syrup entwining
Silently thro' her sacred throat---
  Who here pins a-singing?

Voyeurs there take pleasure
       Leering forward
At the Seraph's ******* treasure,
  All mastered by one measure
Of Alorè's harsh sharp-sword.

Alorè's wings do they a-part
      Off of the Empyrean
Out the dead the sun of Lords depart
    The Dawn of Aurorean.

         Ancient welfare
     Upon Achaean's Night,
Where all the sea-seraphs a-delight,
No mortal can't escape the light
   *Of the She-Winged ******* affair.

I am
those rouged lips,---
spring waters,
clear,
yet unknown;
I am
the cicada's sound,
repelled birds,
feathers
and stone;
I am
Laburnums---
lynching leaves
they fall, ---
floating on the air,
I am
the skylark,
Beauty's bridesmaid---
Forgotten
In fever's eyes;
I am
the black python
screeching
open mine stitched lips
bleeding forth
I am---
Done,
Sick of this,
Finished,
Pealing open my wounds
to see what I got left of,
I am,---
Not what I use to be;
Nor not what I want to be,
Thus so,
I am
no one---
Instead I'm here
stringing up a knot
From up these reedy webs
I use to be....
So I am,
I am
myself no more.