Nothings so lucid as the promise of dreams But these pills we found just make me sleep Theres nothing quite so pure As the written word, my dear, so lets have ourselves a little poem Until the will to speak loses urgency Our animal indecency Until the will to speak loses urgency In print is so blase Its about the bell tower, at the golden hour Angel of the spires climbs her steel cage staircase spine Angle of desire Ascend the wrought iron One by one, wrung by wrung Is it the rising roof line that makes me feel so swallowed whole? Or the way my body barely pricks the sky? The same As a centurys worth of virgins blood Thats passed through my longing veins, scheming To convince my aching mind That pleasures got nothing on the miracle of need Nothings so purile as meter and rhyme When you cant see the ground from that ledge And this perch is so far, far from the nest Gravity doesnt grant me the privilege of failure My bough never breaks, I dont stumble into anything So I climb and I carve my initials in the bark With that feather I found, but its all so contrived And my genes didnt bless me with the foresight of a sage But I know how this will end, in apologies and ink on the page A slowly constructed crow quilled confession Of my spirit to all of you, black waterproof ink scars the board Black waterproof ink scars the board So hotpressed, pristine and pure A slowly constructed manifestation of to tremble As base as a bridge in a song And less like the poem that I promised you Nothings so lurid as haikudetat On sidewalks in white outlined chalk All Ive got is this ink smeared line With our voices in harmony The offering of a crow quilled threnody
ink, quilled, waterproof, wrung, constructed