the peat moss clings to the invisible effervescence
of the night... and strange jewels
dangle from common tombs.
the soil erupts much, after the day has spent a day
and by the moon's reason
the night is not the sun's
thing.

love is too frail to lack strength.
a soft cobra it be
all jewelled teeth and long, long  -
venom, and sweet sweet.
it coils around the knuckle of dreams
as does a playful serious
disaster...
drowning in the curious
but breathing heavily
the Here-
After.