Ivory Corn And The Black Waters

Palid
And
Bleached

Like the work
OF Dark
On Grass

The Ivory Corn
IS Transported
Down
River

Yew
Trees
Align the Banks

Keeping
All
The Black
And Dank
Darkness
That Dwells
Beneath the
Swrirling
Depths
Out
Of the Land
OF the Mortal

It Floats
On A Listless
Fleck
Of
Obsidian
Shimmer

And gets Lost behind
The Branches
Of
A Weeping
Willow

Still Frozen
At
The Site
Where
Her
Babe
Drown
In these
Murky
Depths

The Ivory Head Corn Now
Picks up
Pace
Losing the last few Remaining
Corns
To the Deeps

Whilst an imposing
Skinny Bone
Tree
Knuckles
The Middle
Of the River

And An All consuming
Blackness
At its
Center
Sits Like
A
Singularity

A Black
Hole

Sukcing in this
Floatsom and Jetson

And leaving nothing
But
the Foamy
Carcassed
Remains
Of a Summer Past
In its
Wake