Infant Vanity Vol.4/16 Poem by Leon Moon

Illustrating hollow in his eyes
By the whirlpool of shifting black,
The Caduceus hue resides
And rises in the clippings of his back;
Eternal boy, cast to the Sun
Genuflects to nothing but air;
Artificial light as his Son,
Parching breath from Dawn's young pipe;
Sylvan's are squeezed at low at the waist
And, typically, time causes a rouse
From either side of the jaded waste;
He squeals red onto the white rose,
With a thousand eyes glaring back,
Where the secrets he would find
Whisper in wanton tears of black
‘Time has no end, it is a child's mind,
Your life stems from mortality
For you have never grown or aged;
Though sound in all it's clarity
Has not yet sieged, only waged
Tin lice, bouncing from action's thought
From your scalp: seeking life,
Useless ebbs, the offerings brought
For that hiding boy playing strife —
Understanding doesn't withstand
Without laws of man's natured eye,
Evolved his grey platter to land,
These laws are Faith, sense and cruel love
The bindings of the truth as an everlasting lie,
Maturity's seed is boredom,
So time, a reposing symphony
Pressured by winds of disbelief,
— Opposition is harmony -
And the scourger of all relief
Bide the law used to ordain yourself
In infancy, the infinite self'

Dionysus placed a palm on his shoulder,
And to in May, his beauty grew no older;
But lying in the hand of his wrinkled palm
Was birth's inscription, his mother's severed psalm; ...