enter my soft world
crow hop through the pinhole — time slows down
sanguine blossoms
crepe myrtle rain falls inside the breast
suspended animation within a wormhole
a spherical world, ephemeral
with encroaching edges of opaque mystery
; creamy black velvet
skin becomes sky
a splattered arch of liquid sunshine,
flung across the milky way,
the center is blown-out
a cricket enters god’s eye
a burning in the sky
the question comes to you, in
glass shards, riding a shock wave
entering your body, as you race
toward penetration; toward light
brighter than the sun, bathed
in yellow neon of fantastic glow
your ears shatter — deaf with chaos
the mystification of pure tone
as the flaming rock plunges down
into earth turned upside down
driving to enter the graves, of
not so long deceased ancestors
denying possession of the answer
sororal moon and willow child
silent rivulet; splits prophetic
the zygote's inner hourglass
forever dreaming to believe
circle streams meander oxbows
dawn’s lover and betrayer
the sanguine wave of indecision
sees into the parabolic mirror
the duality of gemini twins
as much for again, today
sororal moon, with splendor
and salt of tearful hands
emanates the soft touch
bending willow child, joyful
(nature’s lunar doppelgänger)
smooth in lowered silk voice
birthed between the thickness of sod walls
her angelic countenance
leaves behind the alloy reflections
folding beautiful in secret lakes
under heresy’s wine dark sky
in sigh — in sigh
falling in a dream
déjà vu
if only
; sisyphus
could be
crushed,
ground
to dust
— human
lust, on
the cusp
mistrust
for
eternity
is too,
long
sleeping by a stream
the stars
f
e
l
l
t h i c k
like s n o w
that night
and the dew
gathered them up
in splendor
to impress
the jaded dawn
the Count of Kapital
(living under empire)
insatiable thirst for resources
empire vampires bleed the world
blood minerals sucked, from
the punctured dreams of freedom
centuries-old men, break
the bodies of youth, for economy
metal trinkets and ribbons
in hand, for sanity and limbs
the skeleton guns of industry
export death and destruction
to the shores of misunderstanding
civilians wear the garlic necklaces
and soldiers sleep in caskets, lined
with the soil of motherland
to awaken thirsty, in darkness
superhuman strength set, on
batwings of night vision goggles
extracting life from the homes
who feed the undead, until
the pounding of a wooden stake
