Who are you
Who are you

That is all you say.

Why did you
How could you
What are you
Where were you

I am of grave concern.

You ask me to take
Down the walls
Off my dress
It like a man
A break.

You do everything without consent.
You say, “Better to ask for forgiveness, than permission.”
You are without yourself.
You are not here.

But let me tell you who I am, and all the things I carry hither.

I am the cut, that skewered my skull, and I am the crowing of a lone gull.
I am the work, the wunderkammer, the storm; I am the bearer of the horns.
The duke, the devil, the spider am I; I am the thing that lets sleeping beasts lie.
I am skin slick, the cloven hair twine, and I am the Dionysus grape of the vine.
I am, I am; hold true—what am I? I am the symbols, quivers, physics defy.
Good Mary, hallow Ishtar, these mothers are me; I am the tremble thick rowan tree.
I am sure of this core; I am hearten by uncertainty;
Claris is the night that harkens all noble daemons home to me.

Who are you
Who are you
Who are you

Who am I?

I am the Death rolling towards Kingdom to strip.

I am the sought one for the muse’ight afar;
Thundering towards brown wine that giveth all of mine—

It is only the saffron divine
That does break the den of this eye;

I am the splay corpse, ready for fall of the star.

I am
I am
Darken stone.

To fall like locus, my heavenly ain bones,
Shake to chase the sky

Apart.

I am what I am.
To flare, to flame, to fade, to snuff and to smoke.

To then start again;
To spark
Be

Evoke
That
Which
I
Am
Always

Again.
Again.

Who are you