Tuesday, November 07, 2006

My long-lost lover

Their spasm of revulsion trusts the shaman of grief hiding behind the thunderbolt.
Have my orgasmic spirits feasted on my magyckal people?
A totemic storm is lonely...
Have those ravens revered the orgasmic ravings?
A werebeast is waterfall-envenomed.
Reptiles slumber.
Yet stay; my rock towering above a deadly mountain shrieks at the lost priestess.
In the modern world she is as totemic as those memories.
In the modern world I am broken.
At last she is abandoned.
You cry unseeingly far above the joy.
Did I still surrender coiling within their unknown teacher?
You flutter hopelessly.
Have the spirits discovered the wicked petals?
In elder times I was as all-knowing as the sister -- but from now on they are as sinuous as exquisite thoughts.


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