Potted Sins Under Tweed
In potted hills Finnish
Cauldrons run quips losing custard!
Vanquished serpents necking
Lounging cretons lavish
Tasking tisks
Mirroled bounce
Hinde bounding exiles
Worrisome kneels condensing bonnet?

Will and either knawlings
Coffered
Loave of Samson
Reason less below her faults


French horror?
Recalcitrant!
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025

Eva
The way
Weighing entrance
As exposed Aphrodite

Emma Watson the abdominable baroque barracade in lust

Duality in twines disregard as moment of depth inward

Saints in Passing Falls
I hurt inside of nights
Mares of Ireland long in Gallow
Gentle settlements of the north burn
Frightful hauntings and return
Return not in sorrowful bade
Halted rising dress on patches dews
Blind feet scamper in cautious glee


Austere delight joining greys silver taunt


And wild streets in liquored brilliance
Convey omens hiding storms
Yet her simple smiles pleasure died
I've not returned by the doors


In the city I was born
Beside heavenly alters free
Terribled loud crowding walks high
My shortcuts beneath the gated baldlands
Underhanded stars of crimes
Mine only the letters
Kind and devout
Oh many devout promises of doom
Yet young Irish boy do fearful
Cannot travel with me near