POETRY KESSEL-LO POEZIE

shades are smelly in the Hades

all my predicaments came through:
i’m into gold & blue. the sand is yours
(slipping from your fist) i fear the bulk
of my hands might drive you insane,

watch me twist my fingers: storms
rage through our black & white & trees
that once were bathing beauties shake
of their leaves to stick their branches

dark & wet in you. in chambers foreign
to our ocher dreams, a black entangled
web of wiry smoke surrounds my heads.

all my copies have been laid to bed.
all my files go up in flies, i do not rot:
it is your nothing that my nothing squats.