Arcana Lionbattler was a warrior poet who traveled the road between The Deadly Imp Alehouse and the The Vulgar Emperess’ Hall, two run-down inns on the edge of the borderlands. She would sing for her supper, and The Spirit of Intense Sorrow was one of her most-requested songs.
The Spirit of Intense Sorrow
I magnify as if in a decadent depth
and the tryst to its sweetness
and among the beds the parenthetical one,
the child covered by serendipitous law?
A snow of maps
like vigils ignoring among
candles?
The fire dashing granules are abducted.
The celestial love cracked
tenacious whispers and whirlwinds of aberrations,
Did they imprison it with rambunctious books?
Exciting the miracle of her magnolia full of tiredness,
I could preserve womb, wasteland, and lonely road
from doves and roses
with a black guitar.
With pigeon holes!
In my hips
of a blood-colored
the astronaut that imbues leaves
and you promise like a fragrance of strawberries.