When we awake from the mist

I am in shadow,

the perambulance of

grief revisited,

till the lengthening toombstone

dwarfs hyperion-

a sculptors cast ,my shell my heart




The gestapo of faith revisited

that others may from my net

Dream sweet prision free-

psychedelic arrest eclipsing

aeons lost fears.



The secret of the hate filled chamber

green gas ,green light &

mercy all,

cracking under boot

ribs target

sheltering from a fathers love.







Were you or I to slumber

nor stir in walking shade

what nets of love entomb us

lest we rise-
the shining ,the living yet are gone

earth's first wake





Yet quickened beyond eyes recognition

The silver sash my silence brings;

a field soughed deep and empty

a fitting palace

for a king

The denseless hollows of my tears

or yet unvapoured from the ground

the shadow of the sky appears

enshrined

in rainbow's fallen glass.




If a child is not a fallen god

- why so unquiet and shallow the grave

that holds the brave emancipator

in such a gentle grasp .




Till in death we meet asunder

apart can never live

a blossom as in winter hangs its head

so a laurel wreath astutely made our measure

must be cast...