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ahh
out of the death in the sun, when time was out of love
and the cares of the countless soul
lay riven in the seed of this zero earth,
over this barbed law and the war that comes hereafter
to dedication to the self and the salt moon in burning,
man who is woman denies no rain.

ohh
for the heart and the rent child and the mourning star
and the spurs of the world gone over
where Love knows the river cannot run
nor shall the fablers in their dark rooms of booming
break the silent tomb nor charge the signs of light
neither can the stars declaim their shine.

and
as much as the world that breeds for summer’s aether
will never shape what murder gasses night,
the death in the sun in its never-ending run
might purr for dreams or else deny the winter’s rage.
and the wracked words of the birds gone blind
decry this sullen death or else go mad.

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