The 1900 Hours
From “The Last Land”
A black season periled past into its own voice
As she straightened herself up and said:
"Takes me deeply, of fungus lover mine,
Seeking me savagely by my last call!
Do not have mercy of me!"
But Spring said, "Do you know who I am?"
The wind replied, "A self-tortured liaison
Where the hunting of the day has begun with buffalos’ flesh behind the coldest sun!"
Oh blissful dream! Let me not awake
Among these hungry wavers!
"Ce nest pas assez--guel dommage--
Mais je vous en prie," the Virgin said
Laying on the bed, bleeding, laughing
From the host moment of her last glorification.
Should I have any particular conduct?
With these three bodies,
Absolutely perfect feeling the pain
And the fat horn around their neck?
Oh, alas so viel Freuden!
While in an unfolded sky as your plenty momentum
That reflects the unborn child,
The numberless seeds as they started gaining themselves
Through a richness vision and lustful smile,
The explosion that my frenzied blood
Made you behold it.
And there, I am as the spring,
Among the powerful wind; I give you
The maximum doses to be mine, oh Virgin,
The ladder imagination of my circus
That's the beginning of a LFE beyond the land of dead.
Copyright © George Zamalea | Year Posted 2012
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