my turtle doves are pondering the broth of my head space.
tingling.
they gibberish the nest and lay eggs of dragons that still believe in dragons.
they wish for thick lightning in the lustrous void. they beak the shell of no made thing.
the Eternal Hum.
the one Always that had Never Begun.
Only Ever, Ever Been.
and That's  It's
Name.

my turtle doves are robbing the bog of it's undead wyrms. they swoop in the morning.

down down down
to the gamma ray golf course lawns
of our suburban necrophilia. the one with the empty dreams in their peanut butter stars.
the one
with the eggshell Camary Toyotas and the delinquent epiphanies.
n' more ice cream than Ben n' Gerry's ******* of Selling
More ******* ice cream
than You
can Imagine.
Plus One.

my turtle doves are holding me hostage. in the dizzy breach. of god's contract.
a damp shade of misspent youth. the Old Way.
seasoned by the Eons
and the swollen Love of the First Love.
engorged in the Kingdom of Desire
like a fat mosquito. Sated on  Cyclopian  forearms.
and the shoulders of Giants
on a small blue world
in your mouth.

just sayin'.

Lest not forget the finely sharpened lore
Of eyes so clear they tame the crystal sea
Of quarrels dreamed but never fought before
Of broken hears, the cause is blamed on thee
Dream not of things that shall not be again
So calls the crow upon the evening's brow
As for the memories which still remain
There is no need I see for penance now
Be my escape, so cries the lowly dove
As he sits idly upon the ground
I've lost my way to fly because of love
And no, I claim, there is none to be found
So from the doves and crows we now can learn
Love is best when it is felt in return