Tater Trot

The svelte darkness stays hidden below the stars Not a movement from the moon or a mark of its scars As the glow of the night sky cloudy like a smoky quartz Sullen and green like an apple bout to rot with the decay of worlds in sorts With each star roaming about looking like…

As the swans feather Catches ablaze leaving a slug That feeds on its dreams

No life glows Neath the almond tree Leaves strangle And roots prick As rope sways from the branches Shading your eyes red   So serene There’s a spare for you So lonely Just swaying Don’t just leave it in sorrow Shifting and creaking   Fraying seams Reaching out for you Just accept You’ll be free…

As the buzz of midnight arrived to grace your cheekbones And the day smells of honey As you sweep me off my feet and I fall like crumbling stones Your eyes make the clouds clumsy As I mill my soul for you into perfect azure cones The day perfect in sundry Makes you look like…

Glowing under the cold dead of winter Right below the stars like wild Daphne vines As you sob on your raft of frigid timbur All you see in the water are your spines All you have now is watterlogged ginger Too far along now you can’t see the pines You can lose your mind in…

Bones creak against your hands and teeth  Burying them in moss and wreath And hands of mist sing Ending the wet spring Now dance with the lions heath

Gentle softness of apricots grace my legs As sugar glues my hair like a whisk of eggs Laying a net through the waters of French grey The lull of sleep calls from each cerise sway Mirror of mine showing peace with spindlelegs The white ceiling gleaming into a white stray Is it sweetenend peace or…

And it should be easy to take a bite out of my head like a candy apple Buttonhooked onto your teeth waiting for you to wander my way Cycling down your road wanting to see your precious fangs Dance with the hazy blue in your eyes that I could never get tired of Ending in…

I could’ve done better so instead I give it in tithes I still hear your thorns brushing in the walls of the shiel Robbing you of your heart was certainly a heist I wish It was my neck that would’ve faced the sieth But I hope my grief will leave you a tilth

The yellow drips in a slow rhythm Burnt curdling out of the giant chasm Seared to the swivel So never brittle Giving in to clear erotism