horses and the sky

I love talking to strangers.

And running with scissors.

If you jump right off of the bridge, so will I.

I love me in the mirror.

Angling at my self-worship.

Speciously, faithfully, generously applied.

It would be a privilege

To die in my twenties.

God, what an awful long time I’ve been alive.

I am a Knight

Riding out in my armor.

Justice awakens its full ice cube eyes.

Salaciously drinking

From Cup after cup.

Sick in the morning.

The doctor prescribes

More poetry, then I may

Lie in my bed;

Head ringed with asphodel, rainflowers, and smiles.

The latter are coming from a smirking cypress.

Swords caught in its branches;

One, two, three, try.

Seventeen magic wands.

Who could need so many?

I grasp them with seventeen hands

While I cry.