Thursday, July 12, 2018

Bright Pagan in her Pretend Isolation

The  undead  be devious      Their horizon is  silence Their pleasure   a form of doom rhymes with   Adam and union pool  comfort & the eroticization of  the whole personality so that    each swoop of value is a shudder    or muttering rushes of double names emptied by  the sharp thrill of terror the blurring of        belief and laughter in a chapel or more rational      place of worhsip what about a bath of light on the letting           what about the way we ruin everything is nice peaceful generous          dancing alone naked in the privacy of no shame I realized the dawn coming on             I heard the sky switch hues and the loose voice of chorus too

Maafa   you ain’t   pastoral  
  
    Nor  are you   sidity though     


Nor   home

Nor  anywhere   else