Looking Through Stained Glass


Like a phoenix to a flame he comes

Swearing up a blue streak

The grain of his outer staff

Perfectly matching my inner sculpture

I weather the frothy current

Of milkshake tinkling down the esophageal path

In a flight of carnal – carnival - carnivore joy

The apparition of the newly dead bird laid to rest

But then the phoenix rises

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© 2005 Raivenne (All rights reserved)

bird left

bird right