Bleeding Still Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

from the wounds
that tore the tracts of logic...numbed the divining
and
the diviner...left a one-forked stick....
.... wracked the organ of love, the one we call heart,
twisted it into a shape
all barbs and fangs....
who is to judge the trespasses committed in agony,
where breath is a commodity, highest priced.. unattainable....
and
still asking for a song of joy.....?
a laud-casting symbolojester, pregnant with decay and bromides,
has puked in the windlass and called the spraybits freckles....
shall we dance on this deck?
say it pretty?
loft it until it shrieks, is penitent and tamed...
flightless in an ossuary?
giving thanks...certainly and vociferously.....
one on...one off....pull a rabid out of a hat and call it....
'here, cottontail, here...over here...over here......'