- In-Sense
- I list, hammer in hand pummeled
- by the winds blown on the shores
- of convergence, the stench of rancid
- wretched refuse rotting burns my eyes -
- gusts gale across rivers, hatred unburied
- sends swollen bodies gangrened and
- grinning tumbling from this desperate
- dump of demonism - and I hesitate for
- but a nanosecond - until I stand -straight
- and swing - hard - the crack of my own
- forehead satisfying as optical nerve
- hemorrhages and finally, finally -
- once more all turns rosy again -
- as I stand on the sun fingered
- shore and protect in the only
- way I see possible - my vision
- as into the epic frame of future
- I bloodied hammer in hand fall -
- before it is too late to
- choose
Sunday, August 27, 2017
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