Lark

A
I swing
in the hammock
of my fling ─
sipping
the greenish brew ─
diluting
the dusky bile /
travelling towards
an embittered dawn?

Sifting through hues
─ secundum non datur ─
I swirl in the aurora.
The price paid:
give in
to the arctic night
I ─ dervish of light ─
give in
to devilish fright.

Give in
Step in_to
Trans-cend
Your cinders /
Your senders

What if
When / if
Who if
Not Me
Is You?

I
tie
I
lie ─
my lisping thoughts
betray me
you say?
The trail leads to Erewhon:
Welcome to my Garden of Wonders.
Though you’ll
ride in circles
you’ll never
tread on the
same patch
twice.

Ensnaring
Circe
you call me?
Forgetfulness
is the foremost gift
of a goddess.
Mischief
inherent ─
my true insignia
─ hidden in plain view,
held sky high,
under the wing of a lark.


A