WINE AND GATES
Eulogy Of Poetry From The Back Of Sates...?
guarantee the spilling
of a blind gift to the rhythm, of oil
is a raging hour for houses, the next in little
passion of gold have taken the riddle of hills
mind the flowers though
the naked or the salt, of which is a place in heel
is for the silence of a watching bough
that has the sense to deliver a bite of banana peel...
shadows remind:
the now is for the youth, the ease of quiet
in your hands for a night of neglect in the times
is but a virginity in the share of slight
case of headstrongness
the turn of sorrow is ours, for a moment to chill, a star
in the heathen way we know a clash in the shines
of a soul to worth the place of are
made from the bliss of cadence
the nick of trying is for pandering
the method of cold steel, the riddle has become, wind
what has a mouth that doesn't rhyme with a tongue, unless fleeting?
answer is in the wind, where even the now is adored
the cant or the candor, we know for a place to dwell
in the skills of heraldry, like the signature of worlds
this patient order to a soberer thought, is an alcohol
will we remember the clue
wind is your persuasion in front of a liberal toe
thinking the knowledge of ashes and dust, with a miracle to do
this angry courage for a plant, is all and who
timid though a sin can be
the ignoration of persons is for the birds
who can be, the stark nature of must to bare upon these
shame? the clock on the wall says its time to be heard
good tidings
the ruse we made in the sharing of deeper emotion, and the half of seen
the heirs of commonplace eclectic language in your lap for a moment then gone, eyeing
the burden of calcium, which has a place under the sun, for a fate that is means...
of a blind gift to the rhythm, of oil
is a raging hour for houses, the next in little
passion of gold have taken the riddle of hills
mind the flowers though
the naked or the salt, of which is a place in heel
is for the silence of a watching bough
that has the sense to deliver a bite of banana peel...
shadows remind:
the now is for the youth, the ease of quiet
in your hands for a night of neglect in the times
is but a virginity in the share of slight
case of headstrongness
the turn of sorrow is ours, for a moment to chill, a star
in the heathen way we know a clash in the shines
of a soul to worth the place of are
made from the bliss of cadence
the nick of trying is for pandering
the method of cold steel, the riddle has become, wind
what has a mouth that doesn't rhyme with a tongue, unless fleeting?
answer is in the wind, where even the now is adored
the cant or the candor, we know for a place to dwell
in the skills of heraldry, like the signature of worlds
this patient order to a soberer thought, is an alcohol
will we remember the clue
wind is your persuasion in front of a liberal toe
thinking the knowledge of ashes and dust, with a miracle to do
this angry courage for a plant, is all and who
timid though a sin can be
the ignoration of persons is for the birds
who can be, the stark nature of must to bare upon these
shame? the clock on the wall says its time to be heard
good tidings
the ruse we made in the sharing of deeper emotion, and the half of seen
the heirs of commonplace eclectic language in your lap for a moment then gone, eyeing
the burden of calcium, which has a place under the sun, for a fate that is means...
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Eulogy Of Poetry From The Back Of Sates...?
Eulogy Of Poetry From The Back Of Sates...?
