...this wreck stallion
perfection
sparks a loom
weaving a tale
so black
so thick
longing the sky
longing the sky
for flight from
a glittered tar
wet with grief
blues, bark and pleas
his drupelet heart
so deep, so sweet
rare, they like
to eat
slow
slow
mouths filled with gloom
they grin
with glimmers dripping
their chins
chins
chins
Dark flames
fire his blood
hot black
he sees not
himself
but another
in this ebon-pond
staring back
with pale souls
open
for them to see
this countdown
to his cherry top
frozen
in all his jewels
a night-lumen-kaleido-pitch
silking ...
