ORACLE

Their faces concrete. Lingering sheeps of crimson of black song.

An arbor one’s limb weakly extends through, smoldering voice earth.

A face dalmatian spattered. Around a corner peering eyes

Terribly.

“Which way?” he asks.

To the arbor. Of darksome fear so died

The gold in grey cloud.

By some invisible hand steam wafts between the two.

Knotted earth, savior plant; into existence never did myth;

Behind veiled eyes the python sits.

Sleepeth.

Do you see myrrh? O bride of red vestment. A place dark and worn.

“Boyish wisps of late cloud–

“A voice is poured.”

Hands-of-laurel.

“The totem head speaks; crimson womb.

“Eyes; blind, glowing river. ”

The many hands-of-laurel quiver.

The heartbroken one vanishes; twisting torso pierced.

The priestess sits; a winged graze is felt.

Limply dreaming on his rock the stray.

By dawn her basin still wavers emptily.