Conjurerer’s bag ( a gothic tale)

by dajazzcat

Posted to Action Poetry on 2001-09-08 05:25:00

Leaning against lamp post
the whore shape into the unknown
form a dark mist of stories
her breath is legendary

and from spring meadows
her thoughts linger
stormy

key-hole
cheap rooms
fishheads

future encounters
voice from subterranian
dusty suns verging on
maze at the core

death’s gate
confussion where birds fly out
glittering holes
blood in a rain
the infinities
the looks

she walks like a path
moves foward in the world
indignation, fortune
mad eyes at everything
old moon beams fingers
as luminessence
where rain driped
to another time
its lonely streets

the names of saints
alchemic solution
harlot halos
In her scarlet dress
A panthress, a starlit
gypsy queen
holes of light
her thighs
still wet

the ciphers on fire
the pale lamp of her breath
mask flips back, old fires
smoldering shoulders
locked drawers

the alley has opened a skull
shadows are speaking, pulled back
the silken veils of themselves
tomorrow is vanishing
like a revolution
tongues decend
onto her glyph

decending into the crypt
rivers of dark language voices pass
into the tomb of time
we have become death
she holds up a mirror