This Is the Path of the Sun’s Journey by Night

i. Pharynx

A mourning of stars
     fills Dawn’s veil
     with inconsolable light

The Sun’s falling feet
     suddenly draw silence
     drying Indecision’s well

Withdrawing radiant fingers
     without an urban belly
     hollowed of traffic’s swell

Dayrise’s sugared hands
     crumple fog into sticky tissue
     frisking harbour and hobo

With gnawing impatience eager
     to put clouds of milky
     tears into a Turin Shroud

Devil or Disciple could
     wail over or come into
     when two wounded wanted

To wander, sea foaming
     at the horizon’s skirt
     two pilgrim shoulders collide

Hurt, defying God’s orders
     they sell their shirts for sod
     clothing themselves in earth

Verses of porn trickling
     crawl meekly into virgin ears
     one soldier—a saint—hears

What sweets the deserter shares
     both men buried in burden
     break the fourth wall, screaming

ii. Cloaca

Blushing curtains fall
     like Dusk bending over a barrel
     shooting scars spewing bile

Bind the two travellers—
     knight and deity—while
     windless streets pile

Into surgical pricks
     fattening worthless names
     into avenues of immortal girth

Chastising each priestess
     her relentless crimes, Night
     tightens the belt, rolls up their shirts

And lets her companions mine
     digging dragons, they bite
     an opiate more potent

Their fingers transfigure women
     into Hedonism’s glowing
     pair of dikes as they dig in

One an angel, the other uncertain
     each man self-satisfied
     this is the path of the Sun’s

Journey by night, swallowing
     its comet tail, falling
     Icarus-faced from flight

Each unbuckles himself
     adjusting mountains
     into mouths he swallows

Fists of light, fighting
     to trust in what blindness
     his faith belches as right