NEW DAWNS

Let the hand feel the flush,
quiet tones subtly flowing
from the recesses of chasm fears
that have drank
your wine of inventive plenty.

Grant the ghouls of laughter
who visit in the vacuum of midnight's
vortex of visions.
serpentine like serpent ogres
sucking away at your vigil of self,
retired to their crypts of maddening abstraction.

Remembering where you made love to the muse,
uninhibited by the screams
rippling from the banshee verse vampires
which come to bleed one's candle.

Slowly surrendering to the voice
calling from your deepest well
of secret identity
till it erupts in new ink,
filling the veins,
fingertips then dancing
a new song of passion's clarity.