Owl Street lamp forms
swoons on on the untested nightly,
crossed lives spread
ancient powder on even
older remedies and cures.
Blessed be the color of night,
to hide my honest virgin truth.
Their soul is truth in my soul
any remedy,
free of heart,
yet all of soul,
all of soul.
Yet free of heart,
and dare I say contorted
and confusing.
6/8/14
