11 September 2024
Sep. 11th, 2024 10:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spinalaves11 September 2024
Once, my dear would skip and saunter / Down between the rock-e-feller’s / Supping on the midnight well-a, / Smacking lips of red. / I wonder if she ever found a / buck all slept and flayed.
Edelwoods and trees that simper / Still the forest grows unkinder / Further down the rock-e-feller’s, / By the stag that shed, / Early as can be, the winter / creatures lope ahead.
Once, the morn’ seemed quick and silver / Jolly as could be, or rather / Danced as if the night was shorter; / Cried she, unafraid. / Roots that curled and split asunder / crawled into the dead.
Evermore, the walking sleeper, / Down the path of rock-e-feller’s / Lay down ‘neath the bush o’ heather / Wood-kissed hair and head. / I wonder if he ever found the / beast that sang and bayed.
Minutiae, the creeping terrors / Swept my floor, came when I called’er / Slipped on feet that used to patter / ‘Round, all in my stead. / Dogs don’t listen when y’falter / calling them to bed.
Birdsong stops when comes October / Fled down low, the mangy mongers / Dug a hole, tore eyes away’re / Kept his eyes ahead. / Sour is the trap o’ nectar / when he stays unswayed.
Yesteryears that weep without her / Tore into the flesh of mother / Crept into the womb, a coward / cold, or so he said. / Blew the flame out of its slumber, / Swore on God’s charade.
Once, my lover left to saunter / Down between the rock-e-feller’s / Larking with the woodland jester / Bed of twines she laid. / Supped the midnight well, satire / coffin, draped in red.
Once, my dear would skip and saunter / Down between the rock-e-feller’s / Supping on the midnight well-a, / Smacking lips of red. / I wonder if she ever found a / buck all slept and flayed.
Edelwoods and trees that simper / Still the forest grows unkinder / Further down the rock-e-feller’s, / By the stag that shed, / Early as can be, the winter / creatures lope ahead.
Once, the morn’ seemed quick and silver / Jolly as could be, or rather / Danced as if the night was shorter; / Cried she, unafraid. / Roots that curled and split asunder / crawled into the dead.
Evermore, the walking sleeper, / Down the path of rock-e-feller’s / Lay down ‘neath the bush o’ heather / Wood-kissed hair and head. / I wonder if he ever found the / beast that sang and bayed.
Minutiae, the creeping terrors / Swept my floor, came when I called’er / Slipped on feet that used to patter / ‘Round, all in my stead. / Dogs don’t listen when y’falter / calling them to bed.
Birdsong stops when comes October / Fled down low, the mangy mongers / Dug a hole, tore eyes away’re / Kept his eyes ahead. / Sour is the trap o’ nectar / when he stays unswayed.
Yesteryears that weep without her / Tore into the flesh of mother / Crept into the womb, a coward / cold, or so he said. / Blew the flame out of its slumber, / Swore on God’s charade.
Once, my lover left to saunter / Down between the rock-e-feller’s / Larking with the woodland jester / Bed of twines she laid. / Supped the midnight well, satire / coffin, draped in red.
