The sun can be persuaded
to have roses in the desert.
The dew at dawn is as
soft as the outer reaches of the sun.
the hand that holds the Sword is loving and firm.

The scapel of the surgeon is sharp
to remove the errant tissue.
It is mercy.
The eagle lives on the crag
as the dove descends
and the sea breaks out on victory song.
The unicorn sniffs the golden air
for the sun is married again.


Ravens still growl,
At the dove,
They still stand with
Dead palm oil under
Their garment,
With blackened fingers
The curtain may rent
Seven trips to the rose
In light streams
The column weeps
The hump of their faith
Sprouts maggots of pain
Defying even the pleas
Of the saints.

This is a demo store for testing purposes — no orders shall be fulfilled. Dismiss

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