Yarn Ball
- mclaspires
- Apr 20
- 3 min read
Maiden, yonder upmost Tallest Tower, enGlen’d + Spinning
Beauty, ne’er fair’ than earthen rarities
as cold, wet clay thrown-on th’ wheel;
Spun, sun-sodom & spindle yarn’d/spin’t flax grains to gilded ribbons,
spider-fine silks, doll-lash-stretch-> meridian ‘dicular among-a gravitated face;
Parallel plane pulled th’ center circular, sapphire n spheric as cyclic- as death
Creeping Jasmine, weaving
floral’d vines in a spinning wheel run’t counter-clockwise.
Exhumations- Pry’d Curses, Wafting [a] drugg’d Smoke
(just) Deafen’d instruments- enfossiled as sheet-fold’ beddings
yet as any mattress,
surface is another layer aloof-to the core’s churn-> gradual with fever
Disturb’d the naturality; sleeping during work break, -on ‘til truest love’s purse of rage
-a kind of which rusts one’s rose
-corrodes the grace grant from weaving-/peddling
the wheel at such a speed it felt still…,
between the whirling, bladed spokes of a horse drawn carriage
- worming among the soul-swanked mantle
of Gaia’s mangled corset; taught’ly laced-to pangs &
iridizing drown-choked-breath + transfix’t ribs or dwarfed guts;
Apple chunk’d within the ‘empoisoned fainting’, plunder-lodging, finger-pricking-
Tossing/Turning- Yearns’t Wandering among Violent Unknowns
Flax under her fingernail;
An inverted sparkle- The pea, as she dreams
The infant’s curse- to only ride if through dawn,
a horse she cannot tame
deformed rays = yin of grace, vex-fueled signal fires lolled the brick
of arrow-slit-windows west-gander’d-to-an Alaskan twilight;
Haunted in flickered blundering, an ever-stretch of virgin space
between us . . . . . m o l t i n g
beneath brighten’d midnights
-Themis among candle-lit-innocence
shone across the other side of the wilds,
Dreaming, The Planet as it’s Shown to You:
Bloodied, three-legged snow bunny agonized across a white-cast abyss
flailing down-hill, as a mellow-headed rose briar- brined in its exhale
Tangled in the woven exhaust;
Whirl’d as their phloem tongues to sip through grease-slickened rivers
-esta maldita tierra-
Churning inward, sleeping and shedding
a molten swirlen’d-ness of beginnings; weight’d solitaire in
impeding stationary murk drows’d in distillment, the snow-bed of roses
turnt red & pruned from dream
-a bleach, varnishing what’s stolen n’ sold back to you
rosepainted in synthetic-floral parfum . . .
How deep sleep can get,
Sipping ravenously off dew’d-on petals-
peppering the lune-lit, o’ernight bloom
A kitten tangling the yarn ball- unknowing bliss,
Cryogenic Earth- Another kind of Glass Coffin
greenhous’d in a paternalized perfection, softly turning
herself to dirt in the silk-n’d pillows sank-en’to her back
La prima de la mariposa en vidrio,
-Morte [death] stapled to the dry wall, eQ.) the duck-lipped selfie;
like Taxidermy [roadkill] a (pagan) crucifix
“-the [spiritual] opening, foraged in the name of love
rearrange ‘this fruit’ into a remedy”. -Venus One hundred sleeping years spent
provoked & chipped in the pearl’d woodland; a scallop-like locket
Pining + biding; wrapped as two rose petals, (just) zealous collections of nothing,
a winced sum oiled-in the little leaves to the -now winter’d branches, étirant
leur aride tongue’s pursed in Fuseli rigor; “Haply some Poison yet doth hang on-“
“to be or not- -40,000 brothers-“ ‘love me- love me not’
It’s soiled Potential, rot amidst Compassion; nothing beheld- alas, Passion-
Lust hauled inside a liminal womb;
-barren in the gall of which space calls from-
as wasps nested in the hollowed log, covered in moss n’ mushrooms
La Belle au Bois’ Prière de Deuil, Terre Morte
Her ‘coffin is not your arms,’ none could sleep in a grave, if
“-the mattress is a table top and the bedsheet was a page”.
-a load of sperm drools along, painting a dust’d easel- glacially fogg’d
among the lunette-frost, silhouette’ (asphalt) fronds shaken
& willowed, palmed in trembling radiation- bubbles of gored-o’er faith
Angel’s shark-finned- tar n’ feathered then tossed back into the sky
Rotting little shells with dormant little lives Inside, ‘built to
fardel bare- unable to sweat/grunt in the dread’ of foot-tapping-grit
-fangs in the flesh of another’s, to disrobe it’s nudity and go
Beneath, to shuck/unearth the inside- within.
nay-, the newborns paviment amid universal-stroked-calm-masses
Virgin-wept maypole dances-> Babbles of prayer ‘gainst the backward wind
unconsentually cross-pollinated by these unsensed bees
-hollowing our logs; spinning the gold + Balling the Yarn
may all your sins be remembered in a nymph-en casket
-enfossiled, as the enfolded pea; bruising all-night long.
Vie [life]- eternal sleep, death- éveil ultime-> doth jolt thee from th’ sheets…
‘soft you now!’
brittl-y sparkled along the diamond’s face;
Embedded in cement ‘n etched out again,
still alive and starved- long dead, still
looking nothing like she it did when alive
A pressed flower
made of flesh and bones .
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