White Sunday 146: occult

sharing breath and the petty death until we live,
free from the spiral shell cages we extruded
in desperate need to hold tight on, to forgive
our words and deeds in fear of being excluded
from a promised land found in inconvenient day.
kairos over chronos, my love, patient passions
shatter stone that seeks to crush flowers sown in clay
and when the snows are too deep, I sleep, emissions
held and forests felled with single stroke of the pen
that is dipped in bright blood you infected me with,
carrier of words, fantasies fantastic when
unleashed by word and vote you elected me with.
I dream of you in every night's surrender
and will fulfill your charge in lusts earnest and tender.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.