Fair yellow iris--
the King himself relinquishes my life
at this cold dawning of the will to rule,
that fat old bastard sends me to the block.

Gray chapel stone,
late afternoon,
I pray for all I'm worth.
The sun hails rubies
on the jealous stones
and all my will gives way
to terror and the sword.

A	B	C	D	E	F	G	H	I	J
K	L	M	N	O	P	Q	R	S	T
		U	V	W	X	Y	Z

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Meet the Weaver