Shots in the Dark

Isn’t it beautiful to tumble out of the mouths of birds? I skipped some rope moon outstretched and there I was Howling crown, happy for a crumb, a ticket, a nothing Not this one I floundered, making wet collages out of our joints and love and, unsure again, referring back to my wound notes, clutched, and there I was, newly mother’ed She’s the Nth one I’ve tried you know, well, maybe it’s me I fear to be fond of this linked jewellery and womb box of deadly butter knives Silver pieces cluck from eight handed shadow, furred and voluptuous Go buy your lost in the woods from the corner shop, keep the change,  OK? This cabin is of healing No, of mirrors, four pointed claws Echoing back the love of the stream, outside of you Come back when you’re beautiful That’s the trick
Step one is it replace your eyes with lead then mouth the spell to remove it You can do it You should The turning wheel is singing perfume Add the numbers of your name and impulse onto the next axis