Aged . almost mummified
the concordat of armor
slashes through the battlements
of winter wait
He holds the pen
perched like an eagle
angered by the social graces
collaspsing with mad laughter
If he is fed
he will die of bloated gratitude
He will hunger
calling it the last
white feast of solitude.
the concordat of armor
slashes through the battlements
of winter wait
He holds the pen
perched like an eagle
angered by the social graces
collaspsing with mad laughter
If he is fed
he will die of bloated gratitude
He will hunger
calling it the last
white feast of solitude.
