Lion

Toward the leaves Scattered brushed Long brown leadened Swirl of haze trodden The spring garden Merges with Merges down With the forgotten

Flowers. Fawn, shadows mere On a puppet horizon We want that lion On our skin The best of the set we think we've gotten

As if we possess That we would rise To a Master's height A worse sublime When the tattooist claws in And starts his trace We grimacing and cry "foul"

Flowered forn, shadows, mere On a puppet horizon We want that lion On our skin The best of the set we think we've gotten

Save only the lion's tail The pain of imprint not what we thought The lion safe from knotted claws Is not what we've forgotten

Towards that wall Of scattered brush Long and proud Forgotten Swirl of haze Swirl of trust The spring garden That we've trodden

Flower, forna, shadows mere On a puppet horizon We want that lion traced on our skin The best of set we think we've gotten