Swaddled deep within the skein of living
wound by red claw, woven through.
Forceful keep, cocooned in deep breathing
I, in my manger, spinning a tale of you.

I, in my manger, troubled sleep endure.
out of a pocket, the Earth spins like a toy.
out of a pocket, throws a coin to a cure, but
interminable life forces can’t be deployed

Interminable life is the Beat and the Om,
shared by the lungs of both villains and trees;
shared by the lungs through chain smoke or psalm.
I, in my manger, will carry your disease

I, in my manger, asleep in my throne,
breathing you deeply, exhaling the bones.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s