Blood Flee
Blue Moon in mendacious compass
imprisoning the shells in the stars
Rembrandt as the face of the foreman
pedantic light of his eyes extinguished the candles
the black wolf in Montes Claros
apache on ghost ship
with its own language of its members
junketing sailors in the poultice
innocent souls served
on silver tray
tattooed virgin
with blood running off the door
revive my powers
Summon my children
pronounce the masters
snapping bones like twigs.
Arthur Nett
28/06/2011
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