the myth of satan (part II) continued

Their pardons are meticulous underbellies
wombats caught in caring
a mandala shaded there,
right there, in the thorns

like some wholesome verdant furioso
glued to its specifics like
so many before them

An emblem

an old tourniaquet untwisted
every healed memory afterwards
handfuls and handfuls of opals
and nights


Inflammable peripheries
To the milk days
Torture music
for the juggernaut
A judas where one was needed
Texture, their texture

Immutable Trapeze
Intentions personified into
Travelling ministers with eyes the size of carnivals
Brilliant grandathers still
Spilling in the act of contrition

Abominable rivulets
washing through limes
Through the pompadours and moustaches
of vainglory
Survival's truces with
or without


A curious parade of actualities
going from sleep to sainthood
in a single step
Their own

There is no cure for depth
no shelter from the ledge

no pharoah without an arrow
no priest without his sparrow
and song

however grim from within the flask
He has only to ask for another sip
and her hips will move like camels
All curves and handles

Her form's been worn to death
yet still he has the breath
to ask
until the blue sun


The devil branded him fool, liar
everything fire could touch
but even the devil himself
cannot make a butterfly

Not when he saw
laws to their waters
and was willing to drown

and feel the blur
As he left her
As he left this world
for her


she had only
to walk those same hallways
shards insinuating underfoot
with the ashes and soot
of her many candled nights
with lost june on her lips
and pain in her hair
she would never dare go bare again
never know his blessed caress
against her new black dress

A surreal funeral
offering may, offering july
but not a single day


no one left to thank
for the softness of lilacs
for the plates of juniper
and salamanders
for the teas and pumpkins
well beyond their years

for the nightshade rosettes
and rosaries
for the gentle opals
and miracles

for the milky rivulets
so like tears they taste
for the ease
of stepping off balconies
like some flying trapeze
and falling thorugh the breeze
into sainthood