Trackin’ flies turn
circles in the sky,
The magnus moon cuts through the twilight,
Canopies of dripping fantasies
Hide from the wolves and the stones are bleeding.
Silent tides reflect opposing starlit nights
And the mirrors will reveal
Every second vintage of the pretty goggle-eye
Whose eyes we both can read.
Toll bells are like the sentinels,
You have no choice but join the burst of hate,
Joy and ease feed from the silver leaves,
The statue’s toy stares eyeless through the doorway,
And it’s left to me to treat the spirit within me well
As it slowly comes to rest
Writing random letters on the cloister wall
That tells me from my home