Poem -
CUT MY BLOOD ON THE LAST STAR
Clay Walls
hold the sails
bundle hides the storms
stillness becomes a single prayer
that touch on holy sound
you tiny echo
underground
painted in the darkest shadow
my heart denies the shrunken halo
spirits line
each weeping willow
bundle lays willing to leave
sight can be the awful deceit
stone cracked hypocritical sigh
planted thrones
sprout and fall
safe this bundle
called and given
wrapped with the last silver ribbon
thread to me
strung strong
tied as knotted anchors sink
now selected seated fool
watch watched timed
listen, stay quiet
knitted night
draws a pretty picture
false that truth which walks
and
Me
buried without death
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