Limestone poet with sands of magic
in the dust the serpent stars
they fall like gold
Orange sun starves the lush grapes
Aswam mountain like a crying tomb
vengeance walks the palace night
My love is a jewel of subspace
black fingernails with red pyramids
she is the bamboo cane of fire
I have become her silk pain
she tells me of ancient pleasure
I hear the dreaming rivers
Her legs have wet dripping lace
deep into moonlight the shadows run
city of pleasure rises in New Jersey lights
High heels in a leather corset
She strikes until the floor is wet
She calls from the tunnels of hieroglyphics
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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