Precious stone the night, chronic
Sentiment of adolescent condition
Wild joy for us living reality’s unprediction
Dream of a complete downfall, remember
Dark omens come in soft velvet night steps
A long lonely walk in the desert, the unsecure
Goal of passion, the sea’s partition in full moon.
Aye! the sinful adventure of the Word.
Who will invoice me on her redeemed virtues?
Who will sense delight and
Who will offer her, treason?
Thus, in those days of the sun, I saw her.
Her form vertically cut. Declaring her freedom
Inside a drop of blood and black ink.
Some pale afternoon off she
Would go, leaving me certain of
Her plotting scheme
This night, I again dreamed of the Word.
The “W” as two open legs longing for…