Having survived two weeks of morbid academic intensity and lack of inspiration, I am now back. I'll greet you with a new poem called "Golden". I don't really know what to make of it, I myself am a stranger to its semi-surrealism.
Golden
Your golden head
within the crowd
around the corner
above the sky
Your golden head
in the dawn
your golden head
in the dusk
Your golden head
dripping honey
smells of orange;
drink for gods
fruit for us
Your golden head
is the dusk
your golden head
is the dawn
Your golden head
it assembles--
dissembles then
into scars
a mane around your neck
a leash around mine
Your golden head
is my dusk
your golden head
is my dawn.
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