As I stumbled along the earth,
laying soft under vanity of men,
my bare feet astride her girth,
all sense sacrificed, and then,

scope enough for cumulus tiger
hunting an eager space between,
life and black marble harlot, ere
virile flesh is marked cleank

scampering fingers, gleaming white,
stroke time in ragged breaths,
burning sky framed in night,
eclipsed by love’s divine deaths;

winter’s perfect face, a seraphim,
intoxicating sketch of self aloft,
a bedroom waltz turned requiem,
numbered days in love, o soft

promises to steal a soul inured,
rambling till the world is naught,
to sleep amidst the dying word
and be in death what death has fraught.