Friday, September 7, 2012

Because it is love, then love should free
the caged children—
the dove, peacock, lion and dog
but because it is the old love,
humbly beautified by Sebastian’s rosettes,
and Wilde’s green carnation, and because
it is not the truth of many, championed by
a legion of defenders ,
Flesh cries out the memory
of the tomb, a catacomb of
shattered perfection where iniquity
breeds into the space
between the stars

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