WARRIOR OF AMARANTH NIGHTS

i would sink if the moon left these shores!  picture of myself,
bright floods!  seeking shadowed roads.  Of yellow and green
cellophane hearts –into the willows of an old courtyard.
   O my dying quiet hearts of arts and words of black dog,
brown shepherd hungry formasters — bitter peaches upon the ground : 
while sulfur and evil drown in shallow swims.
Oh but Lord!  through amaranths and Sahara blues as fire and creepers
seep through the widow’s cage!   i walked Guianan without shoes
and flew through the ducal window on such a moonlight as the blessed bindweed. 
Across ages of time and hordes cross our aged Europe.
Every soul crosses the moors — all warriors!

:: 08.31.2020 ::