dream is a vagabond

parched terrains gazed
out of robed attics,
night dissolving to blend
the naked black horse,
with the scent of black colognes,
stirring stifled cravings,
with a coil’s sigh, muffling
the neighs, over the fences,
where stripping snakes unsheathed
in the gaps of deep, curvy, designs;
chaste and aching, feigning inertia,
in rough , stubby refrain,
arid grass biting its indifference,
in to the burning hollows
of freak bargains,
to celebrate a celibate’s ecstasy
in a forbidden fruition.

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