by kholinar

Nothing to tell,
and far from owning…
The smallest relation
breeds perilous trust…
(infant incisers
and wicked eye-teeth,
stalking their betters
inflicting themselves
on soft, yielding breasts,
with jaws ever aching
and lips craving flesh)
an unhealthy brilliance
in far-shining globes
reflecting alert
in his yellow orbs
sending ripples and waves
encircling escape
preventing all purpose
“talk for a while.
just a bit deeper.”


Where pin-tips delve
and shovels club;
dance is a cypher
and songs are finance.

In unconscious,
left-hands unknowing
reach for the catskills
in folds of the mind

Arrest in an aria
a ransom of breath.
The runnel Seclusion’s
dark, muttering mouth

compressed retinae;
eyes shiver, vision,
and beg to awake