Naked Blood

Glittering in anger
in the cold  darkness
the blade of ice
melts in the heat
of our open hearts
hearts that burn
overflowing gold
sacred holocaust
of dead loves.
Fading blossom of truth
this dreaded somber talent
wailing perversely
on the ironic spirit
of the curst wayfarer
lost its disgusting wings
and floats now
in the shadow
of the past.

G.L.   2/1999

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