In the Yawning Light ov December

Ov alder & beech 

Smoke our offering 

Thoughts draw sorrowed strings 

In floorboards that fiercely hum. 

Eyes filled ad nauseam 

Snatching twig from tree 

Malodorous scribing from our nightly writhing 

To the next days wish to return to dust. 

A skewered tongue Teague 

A Hexe convenes 

For the stitching ov the voice 

To let the old ones speak. 

Somnolent lazy chair 

A passing hope to abruptly die, 

Sooner rather than later 

Fuck where the future lies. 

Our Lady has me now 

Her blackened veil astounding 

Her ancient death intruding 

Whispering in all ov our surroundings 

Liminal life contrite 

Lamentations surmounting, 

By a vexing lantern light 

From a circle of void unbound. 

Dear death now calls for more 

Movement in the moving 

A thought once sought a suture 

Yet, it was a necropsy for the useless. 

By loathing, I must condemn 

From the Yuletide prickled auger 

To end the manger feast 

By the Kentucky Coal, I came from. 

Calling for a branch, 

To turn that ass red hot 

By the draggings of the ruten cane 

Beating birch into howling stars. 

Send for the basket ride 

Hold forward 'til its stop, 

Inhale a chimney — 'tis the eve, 

Old Scratch gets a soul from God.