Of Death.

When your shrine of Death kisses and weeps, It bows that death of stream with washes of rapt echoes, When exclaimed, the vaults of sorrow through valleys ago, I should again be silenced by eidolons where no dream reaps, Where no dream wallows in the grown, endless shift that tailed Fires through some old stone, … Continue reading Of Death.


Light, midnight, On moorlands, summoning fate, Alone, viceroys break Every pretty tear that rises And carries wind in lone summoning fate. As scars gleam in twinkling nightfall, as they fall to rest Upon trees, a thousand feet, that dance in sunlight, And worshipped on a pretty brow, bends the river-way And worshipped on pallid rests, … Continue reading Viceroy.