Seaspawn and seawrack,
The nearing tide, that rusty boot.
Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs.

Houses of decay, mine, his and all.
The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close.

For in this wretched earth
Long lost of putrid reason
Carnal boons of nubile youth
Cast aside for pallid sheen

A material which beckons forth
Its lost tincture churns now in twine
The wealth forlorn on branches lies
Antiquity fails in splendor

The blue fuse burns deadly between hands
a flame and acrid smoke light our corner.
Raw facebones under his peep of day boy's hat.
How the head centre got away, authentic version.

Got up as a young, bride, man, veil orangeblossoms
Did faith. Of lost leaders, the betrayed, wild escapes.
Disguises, clutched at, gone, not here.

Now in this vapid frame
The camera points awry
Spewing pathetic virtue
Never captures bereavement

Moving through the air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship.

Unabide this vernal chasm of polluted purity
The gnashing teeth cry out for ever brighter hues
The piper cuts her tongue, the bard eats her tepid lute
No abandoned promise here not gilded tones of yore

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