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| From Ghost Pictures |
- She is the vibration,
- the note, the chord
- of night's abject abysses
- which sundered my eye's light
- From full lips
- dropped with
- red wine dew;
- Moonlight silver
- on her wetting tongue... perish
- Between stones and surrenders
- under descending onyx autumn
- on brittle leaves and moss rock
- Winter's waters draw from breath
- a cannonade of thirst.
- Crow and wolf
- and cat's eyes
- will open before
- the pith of the sun
- hurling the rage of day
- like snow across the dead
