Before the door to the sun lies the street of the virgin of dangerous things
cluttered amongst an obstacle of particularities and temporal limitations
only planning and less superficial presence would overcome
The pirates of our present day have begun collecting tongues that
speak of air and all things generative
A body too delicate to touch nesting within
the ashes from the phoenix of our last temporary resting place, where autonomy is snatched and coddled for it's preciousness and hidden monstery
A purple haze settles under my feet with it's sheen of chemical interdependence
I blow softly as if into a child's ear...
Temptation as a symbolic exchange for all to see but few to understand
folds in a space time continuum where quantum computing can represent
Thousands of women gathered to build a temporary kitchen for presence and protest upon the steps of a courthouse that understand the force of a listening, expanding out to encompass an entire community
Dressed in clothes the color of milk he holds the balance of efficiency and chaos
tender lines that trace a mystery of generations yet to speak
plantlets unfurling from soil, loosening through time in
a generation and disintegration cycles of industry.
Pausing only to swallow the stars she turns to hear her voice has changed
no longer a child of her age but a woman gently wicked and unearthly pale
A savage beauty whose visitations give rise to what would have once placed her in certain confinement to contain her chaos embodied
Under the asphalt lies a garden of the avant garde with flowers for the anti-optic
we step to a stillness that only noise and speed without examination makes possible
Opening drawers buried deep to find a multitude of tiny, tin arms and legs
made to carry away a critical mass
Milagros crusted in the walls, embedded in the curtains,
Armies of milagros to march upon the bricks building the engaged withdrawl of an invincible summer.
That same summer melts into an arctic past in the haunted radio waves of low frequency.
