Hands are full
around the belly an
ash caul, of infant veil
sighs the tempest
breed of barren muse,
stricken wide and naked
I wear the hands of the enemy,
birthed and swollen by oblivion:
the jester is out, 364 weary,
ballistic and dead by denial
as the sun breaks knees
from flourish to incognito,
his eyes grow wild in sand
and weep with a mother's smile.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:08 AM UTC
Hands are full
around the belly an
ash caul, of infant veil
sighs the tempest
breed of barren muse,
stricken wide and naked
I wear the hands of the enemy,
birthed and swollen by oblivion:
the jester is out, 364 weary,
ballistic and dead by denial
as the sun breaks knees
from flourish to incognito,
his eyes grow wild in sand
and weep with a mother's smile.
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