The golden thorn of memory, encased within skull,
Heightens delusions of power and grace, transcending nothing
In its emptiness of joy, and fallacies pull gently upon the grey
Jetties inserted into the long waves, generous mornings;
Water falls in gentle pretense, abandons the ocean for
A very different way of burning: cold, indelicate life, steel shining
Through mist, which links eulogy to ecstasy,
Reflections delirious without the total mind.
Rings of silver shroud the moon, which draws tide to tremulous
Dampness on sand – the wet film evaporates like the perfect line.
French Ultramarine and Alizarin Crimson oils rush to the
Non-geometric forms of sexual love, painted with the gestural hand.
The quick incision upon canvas smiles ironically,
Mocking the sun, and the thorn of memory pierces time
With a bladed stroke, enveloping the minor chords of white fingers.