The Linnet's Wings :Take All My Loves, My Love - Page 59

The Linnet´s Wings captured from the fantasy and let down into a book where the chronology of ship and being are charted for some noble restoration of the wood. Can we plow our lives back into that life work where as stretching our bowels we find that our aches are not changed by rich rooms to fornicate as we quit again those maids with empty skulls that breed death and pestilence as we speak ourselves to murder that which has no name but the black spots and yellow eyes that freeze the jaw into its death and prize. Any private place can rise up out of waves or born from a lance drive up the back door and make certain we can do this all again swimming from disturbed thunder  to bare brook and standing there naked we repeat again in some sexless birth. I do not lie. --------------- 59