The black iris devours pictures in silence The image of devils light my consonance The I of consolation The eye of consolidation
Graves are the garden trees Dead all flowers and so are we Silent moves of the summer flies Engraved clouds below divided skies Insect influx, the scent of the dogs My sweet flower, and insect on the cross
Darkly wise odour of the evil tongues Odious and devious I despise Jinx of eden Black paradise
Lips of times of secret Murmur evil sprouts Purges the redeemer