Sun-slut,
down by the beach-head,
you are too bright for December;
tantalizing to the seaward touch,
I stood askew of your serrated eye..
while paper-clipped moonlight,
from the night before,
lapses in festering waters
full of blood,
of every man who tried to storm you.
decemberdom plays its litany
with affectionate north,
guiding me bluely
toward a touchless moon,
like the emeralds of her embrace
that melt in the diadems
of a kingless crown.
decemberdom plays its litany
with affectionate north,
guiding me bluely
toward a touchless moon,
like the emeralds of her embrace
that melt in the diadems
of a kingless crown.
'Gainst a coalescent cup, my lips divide with injury,
drunk with the fighting doubt that you ever loved me.
Fuck your pangs and your whispers!
A thousand nights loitered with the pluming pen,
I wrote with divinity - now I write by the sin that is blood;
the blood that broods inside of me with a cold depth,
elastic to the fingertips that constrict around the
neck of your name.