Roll up a character.
Tell me your morality.
Let me breathe in your insanity.
Let me speak of what I see in terrifying clarity.
Let go of the outcome and listen with some charity
No one may come to the father but through me.
Some come to heel easily.
Some peel out in the driveway.
Other’s lie beyond the sea,
Not in wait, but in prison for all eternity.
You want to date but you don’t believe in fate
You think there’s freedom of choice and self-determinacy
Ever unfolding lotus at the locus of all our tragedy
Are you laughing at yourself in this romantic comedy?
Beside the winged edifice
beneath a half moon carapace
there stands a witch and this
familiar figure made manifest
conjured at the crossroads
dying quietly in earnest
fanned by rings and storied amulets
evocations of the catalyst of curious
concomitance she stirrs the fir perched
claws in a promontory the vista summoner
beckoning the peaceful mumbler
the waking life in a sliver of summer
the terrible price for the weaver
paid in sorrows plaid into ballgowns
and lace curtain awnings encircling
the stalk of the fruit of knowing
foggy saliva on downtown incisors
gravitation distorting the view
on the neon banks played out signage
divine which direction to choose
and the ad hoc rules of dating deities
dance in transcendental melody
sycamore seeds in furry feet
ideas spread religiously
sometimes one of them sticks
and gets carried away
on the undertow of unconsciousness
between virtue and depravity
deposited in the silent sound
playing bear to friendly trees
Plum Yew and Wandering Jew
the forest audience surrounding
axe in hand and suffering stand
the familiar man comes thundering
set about the trunks and boughs
dismembering makes everything
remembering the witch
that which there is no whicher
having seen the clouds from all sides now the hawk descends forever