Moss

Electric the chamber, eyes never meet,
Joying about in mosses green
Enough of useless rays,
Born all today a kind,
Needed every hour,
In chorus small, laden showers
Rising merrily at a noble thirst,
Echoes the merciless rust.

Seen forever in captions endless,
Conceptions and matters must bake
Glory and powers to define
A warm milking of daily trust.

Refuge mistaken yet to falter,
Lulling out an innocent cry,
Stems and rivers, evening spark,
And disdainful falls,
Waters to chores, frying about,
Pot of luxury then a cauldron magic,
While the dainties at supper make
As lilies in golden bask,
Royal honours to needless heeds.

Perception yet to order,
Skin combing about,
Nowhere had seen a shed,
A cast but before glee.
To the other yet taken
Faulty obsessions of self rupture,
A tree fruits young,
Rawest passion but hopeless
Neither my syringe pleases.

Sheets lie naked,
Always this day,
Radiating sullen stains,
For the night lasted in shame,
Merry and pansies at bed,
Flowers a dream cause,
Helping to create,
Progeny of numb delight,
In readiness to bloom
A cycling dynamite…

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