Heart

"Heart" Deep fissures formed in the cracks of the nowhere place where time leeched bleeding claret through the green veined blues protean bit by bit the flesh disappears prematurely 6ft under mulch for rebirth the subcontinent conscientious conscience inward reaching the divine central tableau revels in its simple existing the complexity suspended baulks at the easy third person present floating in time ephemeral watching the essence of the exterior; a haunting numb life dies disappearing between the cracks of all the bland stitched-up walls forget-me-nots lie in their beds smug little darlings all murdered transactional yet unnegotiated unconditional, contracted ad infinitum verbatim far beyond the zone superficial the exotic intoxicating unpicked transforms fluidity, the anima pets the purring animus, caged creatures what was broken grows flowing in the elixir substance of the living thing inside bursting black balloons poetry like rosary beads slightly touched, fed to the monsters now fuelled wild and obedient by the silky pomegranate seeds they are elated in the Lawrence forest hugging trees they, magnetic to angels and demons now walking naked with Puck wetted eyelids reach for the honey dripping off leaves to dew her orbs upon the green each a delicious bitter sweet story swallowed like an ecstasy dream unconquered the id remains captivated circling errors inside The Caim - surrounded by bludgeoned bad memories drowned in sacrificial chalices crumbling cities war conquered dark love dramatique le revolver poétique devient de mieux en mieux justice blooms undomesticated irreverence fertilised by indifference to other bolshevists' chapters mingling mime each other existing tight framed laced up in their well-rounded whole boxes conferring their pegged disapproval, the petulant lamenting loons chase the wood peckers, lyrebirds and sparrows, then, stray to the safety of edges, guarding their rites open mouthed forsooth shocked, shooting arrows or suffocating the Arden smoke rings, like terror-forming earth bound paper tigers their soft vitriols relevant to cementing the outside jungle they prey reeling the kneeling hunters in lotus feet bound, they remain, small and kept like another’s property they are reviewed and red bleeding each a sentence barred between margins wooden framed willow-the-wisps addictive furloughs digress mute and grand mall deadly sin-binned dopamine smiling dandelions raising their petals like skirts to the sky, bearing their marooned gashes wounds kamakaze missions welcoming poison-tipped swords, then, falling shy in the moment of golden turning the pain egresses, resurrection is ardently invested in the duality under blankets blowing all their swollen pages like layered petticoats saged with the cream of inverted wisdom kissing hems of sacred mothers from the interior a vision scryed in a ponderous mirror like ensconced Delphi waving words mystic witch the most valuable thing undressed, whose onyx thoughts turn exotic ermine tongue velvet tipped to thumb the dexterous man-eating succulent fruit all the corsetted strings come undone chords planchette, automatic, sprouting a new view underneath the fissures buried deep in the soil of it all, evolution like a personal revolution grew dear dark shadows best left undressed and Donne raw when the tears hit the falling brown spaces spooning in between the simplicity of a fresh reign the dazzling shoots expel soft bullets unfurling eyes schizophrenic sewn needles in haystacks found in prim rows prose roses Nin arrives climaxing the Narnia stories to climb anonymity's tower notoriously held like a slick sword psalmed and reloaded character climbs the warrior pole clinging to cells like seductive ivy borne again green Eve eyed naive cruxed unmercifully to bloom blushing fresh and pink open on display swords like scissor-tongues cut and graze, unnecessarily speaking whisper the Lilith in, blunt and non-refined until they hit the sun what’s unkempt inside burns slowly and in the middle of it all a splash of colour the shade of carnage calls in sweet crimson peaks all her versions of read, finger-licked fertile pages provocative of a new season turning bursting through the blue azure veined purple royal, missing, dressed in camouflage, the unseen heart (LadyLabyrinth / 2022) "Rome is not outside me, but inside me. Her feverish sweetness, her tragic countryside, her own beauty and harmony, all these are mine, for my thought and my work" Modigliani