Villanelle
January 25th, 2006
By Archived Story
The basalt guest chips finger from hour,
Your hair turns the river in a bended way
And fallow light should love the darkened tower.
What dour faces does the silent history powder?
For livid gin makes you forget the pay:
The basalt guest chips finger from hour.
So drink broke the lips down-turned and sour,
It borrowed the palace arch, on which you lay,
And fallow light should love the darkened tower.
A dull tree knotted the spirits weird power,
The sky heavy on your red face goes as it may,
The basalt guest chips finger from hour.
Moving pair of lights within lights that glower,
The drunk forest creeps around, so you say?
And fallow light should love the darkened tower.
The coral eyes on a silent face and your stranded shower,
Strange lands! You provoked the constellations from clay!
The basalt guest chips finger from hour,
And fallow light should love the darkened tower.
