Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The Brilliant Ground

The body lurches forward
flame attacked
and falling
tower to ground
Kings hold court
in a pointed sky 
Barons of graceless report
ponder indignities
in their self-centric cause
Flame thrower, 
abandon fate
take not thy servitude
into hellish repose; Nor
hold the caucus tongue
cut from bloody mouths
wrenched from fast, hard voices
tunnel down
There is
a mother’s love
held in a gentle carry
We will walk there together
kicking clouds into swirls
the yoke in decay
dark tower to brilliant ground

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