--
I want to believe
the black bitter sorrow
that soaks my skin through
with spill'd cardiac stench
can be sweetened & sipped, still
like steaming temptation
--like wild habit fuel
that strips skips & slips
past all hesitation
to hunt for your jewel...
(O! Heart like a teacup--
all worn, chipp'd, yet dainty--
grown narrow with age...)
--
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1 comentari:
love this, David, it's really a wonderful poem in so many ways...
ps am mentioning you in recent blog post
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