silent eroticisms in the shadows of daffodils
make our plea to the plutocracy that bleeds us
salvation waits upon the station’s furthest platform
for its train to depart
a miserable situation to be left without compensation
i have no doubt you are suffering dearly
from everything that went down
women are weaving bracelets
talismans made from hair, nails and rope
soap and sandalwood caress our souls
in cleanliness we find solace
as our weapons of separation
disappear down drains of hope
in retrograde venus renamed herself

open are the skies
open like the folds of skin between her eyes
ulterior power sources
song pirates sing of dawn's dying
she holds the key to our suffering
and turns the lock a little tighter every day
but if we turn our attention inward she may open it for a moment
and inside you will see your own reflection
a jewel shining on the surface of emerald waters
turquoise symmetry off the wings of a bird’s tail-feathers
i swam for centuries and landed on your shoreline
the missing continents revealed their bodies
in splinters of humanity i perceive hope that springs eternal
but its plunged back into the sea before it fully surfaces
like old volcanoes our minds are volatile
and only give forth new ideas occasionally