Season of Serpents

Her wingless arms are moving lines

Circling skies and wandering signs

Sensual trees are worrisome

Blessed is he that rests this song

She moves her arms to see the clouds

But gone is he and sorrow bound

Faced with the season of serpents

Damned by the gods; by her words

She mingles fiery silk and seeds

To grow that weed and lose the clown

Demons rise and fill the coat, put on his hat

And walk around

Faced with the season of serpents

Damned by the gods; by her words

Sing, oh soulless yearling and beg

Beg that shimmering star

To clean your knife and mend that golden crown

The weaver and I spun the wheel

Picked the loom and waited high

Slowly feeling that Northern breeze

The taste that we’ll defend this time!

Loose the heart that beating beast and

Move your hips across the ground

Faced with a reason to circumvent

The old styles and words

Sing, oh soulless yearling and beg

Beg that shimmering star

Sing, oh soulless seer and beg

Beg that painted eye

To clean your knife and mend that snake-like tongue

A page from a book, a word from her eyes

The beat of her wings…what’s left of this line