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December 26, 2010


A metamorphic continuum melt
shuffling down you go to the icicle
shop riding around the chopping block
king of the merry go stop in a sand pit

there is a day out in a lane farthest over
the secret city Myrica of the chrysaline
wind Syntax, the open secret, the extra
terrestrial samaritan called a doctor quick

and seperated the black lift from the abrupt
labyrinthine egg

preceding rains that unfold
across the mirrored underside
of a house's lid. One row falls.
Smooth talking you call him--?

Whose lilting verse held hypnotized
generations of blood-grown lines?
held root their suckling mouth
to the sharpened tip of a talon dipped

in a black cephalic victual
the dark side of thy lacine
scares a murder of crows
from a sunset's corroded agent

when the world falls in a vulture's
shadow a bitter chrysanthemutation
unfolds moth-pinned, an angel
opening its wildflower heart

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