The wind quartet howls softly
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My jeep hand strokes her necklace
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Crusted, crammed with old Etruscan gold.
|
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Her bird head torn with summer
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Inspects a Spartan runner
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Robbing time a chosen Prince of Speed
|
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My goblet drenched with Autumn
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Tears for my dead cat Ena
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Silver Surfer sorcerer of spray.
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She hooded deep in chartreuse
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A falcon glimpse of white teeth
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Separated by lace cinnamon folds.
|
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We hid and rid in hansom
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Cab wrenched from lost Byzantium
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Lordlett who once held the earth In chains
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|
-----------------
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Wind Quartets
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| Marc Bolan and T. Rex |
