of history i say heave! heave! heave to transgress and travel beyond a censored existence numbed and aplenty! heave i say, a bridge above the bosporus! heave an effort of the lung translated into footprints my son; heave! only once, only forever!*

we write on the colour of defeat
with warring terminology:
how handshake the white
when the shadow reveals a hundred daggers
ready for a stab if only to reveal a poem?
in my home-town a thousand crows
would encircle a saint's bald patch
for a single croak to signify their number
for only one... and i too among them walked
a shackled path to prove barbarossa's maxim true:
tell me of the mountain of black bird song
to resurrect me, and i shall rise,
heaving the breath of death among the scattered minions;
it's odd that some confuse blond with pink
when well established in man's ***** hairs on the face.