Thursday, August 19, 2010

038: For the second time

Last night I watched again
my own stake
in slow motion blaze
from the bottomless bog,
then drifting further
on the polished onyx,
away from clouds of flesh,
albatross air cleans the sweat.

Using crash logs
as ocean maps
to the chapterhouse of failures,
collections in agony
and the guillotine blade drenched
in azure, from the veins
of the invisible,
a saline aftertaste.

I scrawled with incisors
and lifeblood from the cavity
in the heart of everything,
the precision of creation,
ironcast cybernetic
like glacier lakes,
with nitrogen rage
beneath the mantle.

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