the words weren’t mine

always take me for whatever               you want
out of it               in some style and then some I
and so we               get down to the rougher stuff
and then again               ourself turned and made up
for fabulous guise               works over a heart
bitten in rags of that dreg essence               come
now we manifest               in the many ways
till brilliant               things begin to threaten
by no mean such as silence               will space fill
full of the halter necked and feathered               yell
and glory               in bands of bitter silver
and down                upon my newest riven limbs
I swear again               I am both               compounded
reduced               the very need to take a turn