(no subject)
those spores of misted diffraction
should seep like poison into the
spaces between my buzzing atoms
and disintegrate me into a whiff of breath:
to flow into
bodies and out,
to sweep through fingers and strands of hair
propelling the fronds of time
(what a stone,
what indolence is to have bones.)
that clear based aircolour
should splatter into my eyes in shifting forms
spectral virus chains binding and dissolving
the globuous pink-fingered
waves
that thicken my tongue
split my tongue into a raucous ralley of
tongues spitting and articulating in
round boulder tones to knock apart the
filmy webs of beauty that begin
to trace
tomorrows into my blood
unable to split and rush beyond the prison-walls
the banks and pebbles that
lie sprawled in the darkness
patches of shadows lie like puddles to catch errant feet
bound unfeeling toes inside shoes
insensitive and insulated:
minds create us
(the sun does not care)
patterns create us
(the sun does not care)
voices hammer our molten smarting souls and ring like iron
(the sun laughs in derision
making all lesser lightnesses naught)