Chicken in the rooster coop. That is life. The mother. Raising. Reaching. Reciprocating. Flowing through a cross-pollinated monochromatic half-lens. Slipping. Slipping. Slipping further down the pitch-black ether. And I deny. I deny this rooster game. But not yet, not ever. Mother. This mother. Mother Earth. The goddess of all who portend the enflamed liquid hopelight. Light be the majesty. Darkness be the void. Like so many wretched receipts responding and reacting to this paved-over blindfold. And paved-over once again. And again. And again. And again until shhhhh. Commercial in its emptiness. Filled full with regret. Damage done. And yet, the shadows speak in muffled tones! But the echo is real. Mother magnificence make me whole. Bring me into your womb. Leave me awash in that glorious placenta. Oh mother. Cover us all. From the liars and the thieves and the greedy greed greed of the political machine. Bring the rain that makes the rust that stops the system that kills the birth of a yet one more system. A new stream engulfing man and woman in one. Fell. Swoop. Buried. Into the deep nothing. A ripple-scorched landscape. Left bone dry but for one. Impossible glimmer. A drop of utopia. Waiting. Waiting. To keep us from evaporating.
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