Burnt Offering Poem by Dawn Novus

Hand on mouth
Failing so wicked to contain
This subtle intense pleasure in pain

Through slender digits
See lips going up at ends
Wicked shameless brazen
Drift getting and gotten

Time after every time
Can't take another time
Too much fire in these soothsayer
Alchemists, philosopher, earth wanderer

Down go to that misty tree lined ladened impossible mysterious deep
Take time rolling over the tongue
Trumpet sounds big...you know how I feel..sounds like howling maniacal into the night

What waste it would lay bare
But for the ravenous feasting on the words of your offerings

Let them burn on the alter of the mighty penned
And let the smoke be a restfull scent
Of a satisfied man
At works end day