FRUIT OF THIS TREE --

Russian red wine and demented vines
created love in appealing tubes
glass prisms wear summer clowns
descended secrets hang around street corners found 
winters counselling the willing sounds
collecting flowers in the crush of graves

a fortune teller dribbling truth
spills suicides unwanted delay
im visiting the sacred pledge
buried in loves room
as rain beats the music on windows closed

paradise is walking on a hot summers mimic
seated on a shallow wooden bench
you whisper evicted flirtations
loves touch a razors cut
tied too a silver thread

idols praise my every death
each collected thrash in breath
a circle squares up to fight
and bar room queens spill revenge

one day a place for them
torn hymn 
 can you ever imagine the silence
but the hymn was torn