Come and meet me in chamber of death
where the tempest comes every night...

The path disappears
under the foot...

I met a talking moon
on the road of death...

Abdicating the shadows;
totemic...

That satanic streak
of tireless undressing...

Nothing was beholden.
Colony counts were perfect...

Like a butterfly pinned
in a collage, fluttering...

The secular love:
you are contaminated...

Leave something for me to imagine.
A skeleton in a pond...

When I was arranging daffodils
you send in tanks...

By the moon
I drink you again...

In your domain
walking with men of straw...