The Face: A Novella in Verse

XXXVIII. The silent countless lifted from the white labyrinth; Sails & shackles shivering within the sea air. Josie the Sphinx stood by way of, Blessing the boats, a symphony in a grotto, a blue gateway off the mythic alley. (Any preludes on your pocket, passenger? No, quite a few arabesques Lit by means of pink gentle, thanks greatly. ) misplaced chimera, the grace Of shadows rose like an echo into the ambiguous clouds. The curtain Of diamonds she tossed into the waters sank slowly towards the ground Of kelp & uncooked coral, the Mediterranean gentle cooling in its ashen forged alongside the asymmetric paving stones of streets best up from the harbor. priceless Fuse, flaming twilight, visitor stranded within the physique Of a Saint—walk with me within the discomfort of Sicilian silence, vivid & red As stars within the dusky sky. Blood funnel, ardour leaf, hole pane, darkening Nude excessive within the ripped moon. the following, carry the slim globe of Your lantern within the mute, pulsing evening. Torches of cypress, the stink of useless Fish, alleys & toads, paws & snakes, the skeletal frenzy. The lengthy, electrical Worms of neon casting their bald writings alongside those brutal streets; Pagan carpet, scale down of scarlet idols. Cadence of the plucked Violins, the magnetic wash of body spray throughout your physique, the virgin owls, The slanderous rain. alongside the stairways of irony, lower than the cloisters of lunar style, i'm nonetheless awaiting you, little specter, little dove. on the door, consider? —Your physique a scirocco of bronze epidermis, ghostly & profane & feral As a reminiscence, corrupted because the spheres of the fermented blackberry. Black Pottery, white jasmine. The brackish flesh of the starvation assembly your lips: a couple of funereal spasms, a delightful pallor, & the tough cherry of the tongue. in the course of the fog cushioning the port, the scattered oranges of The streetlights. Mythic blur, invocation of the chic. Human altars, males & ladies collapsing lower than the load of the nameless, brazen evening— Its abrupt velvet so deadly to her look, his stroke of oblivion, unmarried arrow of a few imprecise religion. Angel of rain, consecrated ringlets unraveling Like chains alongside your face because the shaft of sunshine from an open window casts Itself into the arch of the fountain. The veils of the sanctuary develop luminous in the dead of night, just like the lips of a kid lights the night hearth. O, Incandescent finger of the forgotten, contact me now. Destiny’s tomb, Forgive me. The nothingness continues to be a voluptuous prayer, & within the distance a complete panorama is assembling within the fierce & dissembling December winds. Flags of the gruesome towns wave, banners of the most harsh lies. Now, i've got invented an entire philosophy of shatterings, corporeal shards moving with the rattle of brain; So, raging attractiveness, precipice of the tabernacle, keep in mind now the naked, tawny Eloquence of these breasts, & past, now not so very a long way within the distance, these balconies of iciness laurel. So, this is my previous pomegranate Gibson guitar, Inlaid with studs of genuine ivory & etched with a ruby hummingbird. Angel Of ash, i'm making a song.