pen sieve

i am so gone i am back

knocked straight out unloaded

my clock face with its tic

so afraid of how you will miss me

let me sleep for awhile let this night pass

let me find you in warping dream

no dancing on clouds

no descending black velvet curtains

no violins describe my fall

a thing has whispered to me

i have felt its weight upon an empty bed

the membrane is shot it cant keep these things out

the stairs are busy theres no body home

my cat my familiar black like midnight

you are opium in the red heart of my room

you are treacle congealing in cold milk

and now you are the taste of some powerful liquor

made from black herbs and moss

the prints of darkness