(1993)
As I stroke you
the flower of my putrid fingers
burst into a hosannah of stars
As I sing to you
the black blood of my bowels
jets like a crystal fountain
My memory is as old as the oak
My grief as heavy as a hardbound book
(1993)
As I stroke you
the flower of my putrid fingers
burst into a hosannah of stars
As I sing to you
the black blood of my bowels
jets like a crystal fountain
My memory is as old as the oak
My grief as heavy as a hardbound book