poem: Pink Ladies

Santa Baby kringles his way—
Not the least bit krissly, we can assure—
Into your nights,
Offering the tenderest of mercies
Best left unsaid:
Avalanche of silent review
Essaying all the tender
Dews of nights before,
Whispering the wicks
Of candles burned
Down leagues of midnights,
Herald of ancient cries,
Infinite laughter as
You wish your way
Into futures of the
Vagabond hearts:
Mapping the appled days,
Charting the gathered
Ways we dance
When the calling wild
Visions plenty. Steal
Away into all the nights
Fore and aft,
Urgent messengers will
Affirm the need
For this to be that,
X to by Y, calends
Of the sun to weigh
In with mighty laughter,
Ubiquitous trickster
Of the irreverently holy—
And wholly irreverent—
Heart.