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Spring

Spring's first tremulous violets are within you. Alexanders sinewy extending is within you. Such vivid green. The mad Marsh Witch and her vicious viscous hips are within you. Her milk stained breasts. The glorious arc of eternal translucent sunrise is within you. The yearning plumule. Descending radicle. The discarded seed coat of your papery heart is within you. Sweet blue tit on the elderly branches of the walnut singing 'kill, kill' is within you. Baphomet is within you. Buddha. Jesus. Waheguru The Unmentionable is within you. All kingdoms and empires, histories. Odes. Elegies. Sonnets and epitaphs are within you. The violation of your grandmothers. The whispering ivy bringing ancestors on the breeze is within you. The filthy procrastinator. Wandering stone. The fetid pig that gorges. The diabolical whore. Ereshkigel is within you. Hanging your flesh on meat hooks, smiling: 'Come, come'. Crystalline ecstasy is within you. A radiant fractalising orgasmic infinity. It's right there, within you. My black cat is within you. Green eyes silent. The witness. The Dakinis are within you. Fucking with your head. Diatoms and protozoa are within you. You are within them. You are nothing. You don't exist. Aboriginal drum songs are within you. Throaty prayers flung out, rasping. A murder by stars, abetted by the forest and the Gods of night. The sitar, the tabla, the mandolin. Saraswati is plucking a sweet melody from the veena within you. Hungry vines are coiling and warping. Widening. Enlarging. Fingering the cracks within you. The rippling fountain centrepiece of a day-glo paradise island is within you. Birds are flocking joyously around it. Flamingoes and harlequins, orgiastic splashing teeming voluminous silk ribbons and digital bleeps. The kaleidoscopic cacophony is within you. The animalistic riot. An orgy of vermilion haired pre-raphaelite muses is within you. Looking out through your eyes, bewitching all you see. Can you feel the magic in your fingertips? In the sparks at the tip of your tongue? Rise up. Exhale the ice pattern. The shimmering mystery. A gargantuan blue whale that has lived since the ruptured birth of the Universe moves deep and slow, making endless love with you, within you, its sub bass sonorous lament keeps you here, though you are breathless and your head is spinning. It is the end of time. Soon this will all be a dream. Did you love well? Did you explore magnificent bodies and the majesty of many whirling universes? Did you touch real flesh with awe and tenderness? Did you lick it with your tongue?

Did you finally open

to let yourself

free

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