Poetry

Dismantling the vista 
for a missing link. 
A moon rises behind the ruins. 


I see only the water 
and a sunken ship in shallow bed. 
The wings have carried away the wind. 


A beautiful sin to become 
polyamorist worshipping many goddesses 
dying everyday. 


The blood draws a line 
around the chaste bed, where 
half-brothers will kill each other. 


I tie the knot with hanging 
fountain of virtual image. 
There will be no consummation tonight.