Poetry

Again. The search 
will start 
for the virgin truth. 
 
Unseen. The invisible 
character, unfolds 
a bipolar paradox. 
 
So far. I have come 
groping in dark 
for a terpsichare. 
 
Spineless. You 
fly in the wordless 
blues of the veins. 
 
The underbelly 
was smooth, tied with a 
criminal moon.