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