You’re gonna let the sun
always go to his rite,
It’s a sacrifice,
but he will be overall victorious
reborning to new glory.

Stretched out and watery
the wide cut of your eyes
by a vulnerable agony
that will receive forgiveness
tickling the elegant lines
of your delightful face.

Now the way is charted
Barefoot I follow,
listening to the soft crackling
of a bizarre heart
that is just a projection
of the concrete.

Only a fleeting idea the trajectory
where my compass is pointing at,
within the chaos of dissociated memories,
my own north is still you, son of the sun,
the same sun that you’ll let go
cause you know he cannot forget you…
…you are his pride.

Thunder… then lightning,
feverish caress of musky notes,
****** scent of loving irony
to curiously tempt each edge
of such a fractionated cubism.
Tiny desert rose, ready
to dilate all its farthest dusty ravines
just to feel its lymph racing out of bounds.
Hot water runs down on me,
raw and bitter into my mouth,
a taunting sadism
for better wince, essentially
in a universe that is not there.
Painted glow of cynic nocturnes,
diluted to loss,
watered down to dawn.

jupiter dances
with the moon tonight as if
they were binary

(On the death of a daughter)

The death I must pronounce upon
For you, parents, the wait was long
Across this land unjustly tried
Your silence only proof you lied.
In pitch darkness, dragged overland
By Dingo jaws and human hand
Guilty and gaoled, she would have read
In her sixth year, were she not dead
Just six weeks, never spoke a word
Now flies the night, free as a bird
Over deserts ochre and red
On Uluru she rests her head
Wakens and plays in sunlight stark
Darts in rock shadows, cool and dark
In Rainbow Spirit surely trust
She lies lightly in sand and dust.

© M.L.Emmett