The pine tree murmurs at midnight;
With the dryad’s Dirge for Deidre.
Her tall slender frame,
An arrow cast from Artemis’ quiver;
(Her ageless armor riddled
With the gnawing of the woodpecker).
I peer across the cosmos,
A Ghastly half-faced gargoyle
Blackened by the moss of shame,
Only time can render.
My pipe arched,
Hangs from my clenched teeth.
Silhouettes of smoke;
Tatting the ethics of elfland.
The moon an imposter;
Cyclops pale myopic eye,
Crooked and bloodshot from the start.
With the shards of shattered evening
Proserpina imbibes the pomegranate procession
The pale Queen’s lute lay silenced --
Strings hang as a noose to which captive
Dreams bravely march
You haunt me and stalk me;
Pull my flesh…
Strand by strand
An old spinster's spool…