Three long years have wintered in our enthusiastick souls—
a many-faced, brooding winter.
Three long years since our powerful stars last
ran in the fountain veins of the body of god.
Three long years while stubborn masonry
glommed onto our forearms and backarms
and our naked limbs became very hard to move.
Three long years, my brave souls!
Brave souls!
Like forests flourishing in a confined environment
you optimized your consumption and production
and became mystics of the perfect moment.
Like downed wires on the backs of trees
you were both alive and not alive
while vines and christmas lights curled around you.
Like beautiful strawberries, eaten to the leaf,
suspended in clear, white water,
you bobbed while golden piss was bathing you!
Brave souls!
The winds of September rush and ripen
the ancient fruits of longing.
What's that I hear?
A brave soul never dies, only sleeps.
What's that I hear?
Before you formulate a best-practice policy
of long-term relationships to project life-cycles
BEHOLD YOUR EFFLORESCENCE!
I hear!
THE DELIQUESCENT RESIDUE
ON YOUR STONY ARMOR
BETRAYS THE RUNNING WATER INSIDE YOU.
Brave souls!