on the sands of the oedipal garden
shinned the sun full of laughter,
rose of lime danced with the hellion
the veil lay wasted for it didn’t matter.
iris circled high on the mountain
the janus-faced puppets knew they should leave,
an orthodox hero was caught bleeding
as the deprived rose from their knees.
a puisne screamed celebration
i knew i would join him then,
at the connoisseur garden party
that was soon now to begin.
my pop-eyed lover felt our way
by babylon queens searching sailors,
through gigolos tasting one another,
by the bridge over dying traitors.
the empyreal pirate met us there
dressed with a star dust smile,
each hand holding sweaty satisfaction
and the guilty never had a trial.
rainbow roses filled out the valley
ecstatic rivers ran with dandelion wine,
there we lay with our favonian
in rhythm of the friars rhyme.
momus cried as a baneful filcher
contentment followed our twilight crisis,
the counselor had gotten to us
with the warmth so like isis.