Valediction is the process of our days,
Shading the shadows with curious tints,
Till instinct fires the funeral pyre.
Flesh’s frontiers permit no crossings
Save after dark, across rivers and woods,
Panting under searchlights’ strobing.
Love is the genius under my skin,
Burning through forehead and fingertips,
Starting excellent fires without permission.
Words’ doom conjures conical futures
On the bear market; buyer beware,
Your weird wards other than you think.
Worse and worst are with us still and ever,
Pricking the witch’s fingertips of time,
Cunningly to draw the bad blood out.
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