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Tuesday, March 9, 2010

To a Rune Stave I Lent My Hot Blood

To a Rune stave I lent my hot blood
To tally up the sum of the hearts affections
The scrawled, agile figures bent to their sultry task

My old blood has been there talking to them
Before, and past lovers linger on in traces,
Once flowing rills, where their shadows stayed behind me

Words that echo in the canyon hollows, above the plains
Where ever I might go, those ones go with me
They are like the dead, never buried once with respect

Watching through haunted eyes, like the wind
That might never move a leaf; still
You can sense it's held breath, hanging there above you.


  1. A wind that never move a leaf--that really hit the perfect mood. Your poetic mastery is showing again, Heterodynemind. T.T