Borrowing

I have borrowed the three feathers from her wing
Where she borrowed Nipponese Lacquer to

I have borrowed the last words I shall ever speak
and stealthily laid them in my coffin linings

I am unsatisfied in disenfranchisment, uninterested in knowless and the
ebon fingers of her filmed feathers are not just quite

I have borrowed the final fix, and the red lines, and the

I wish I have

am borrowed in finale

I wish

In the circle sands there will be two brothers
They will lie at my feet and stir the sand soup
and ask me for my perfect feathers of ebon and obsidian
to smooth striking fossils into the sand

In the circle stands I will sand and slip
borrowed bread from their
borrowed fingers
and will not give

am borrowed wish for the simmering
infin

In the circle stand's sands there will be sand and slip
and they will lie at my feet and stir the sand soup with fossils
of my feathered fingers
and in ebon and obsidian mark dontnations of far Nippon and
I will have forgotten her by then

DEL_TEST

In deep sea streets, walkers bubble-whisper
tracking the last expanding edges
and wobbling on their drunken orbits
in the wake of a sinkstone
in the wake of a turbulence of sea lions and
south shore lines
until the treaders, softly
stirring the lake-edge wither
to the merest tracings and another walker
treads to the bottom
touches stone
and

Arbitrary Paths

Enduring this slow.
Cantering with carnival rhythm.
Carnal enders avail themselves of snow.
With rhythm.
With smack-lipped thrust.
With snow.

Sharon sat on the edge of winter and
waited for the edge of slipped
tongue tassles to finally introduce
her to an arbitrary cold, under new
light, in the hands of a simulated stand
of slow.