vining
my elemental Frankenstein
my
stark bones are scatter carves in the wind
as
I wait for the toes of spawn to begin, digging in
running
in the madness of leaves that reach for Sun
weaving a mimicry of tidal bleeds in my humanity undone
in its flicker spread paraded decay, the turnstile decomposed
this is my nesting, rot to root, slow curl suckling is best reposed
this
is when stealing light from the safety of the dark can happen
where blood
is mapped, stars wide-leg the sky and my soul is a-rapping
find
the keys to my cage
no,
weather cannot be trusted
as
a prognostication
only as a divination
though
whether or not
I choose to see the rain
or
open mouth and drink
the
washed pain of less trees
more
heat, the Earth with an open sore humanity
is
staked to burning in this beat
this
crumble city permanence
this
is where I listen for the Goddess
the
eternal Mother, Sister, and Lover
coming
in tri-fecta perfection
this
nubile to crone wisdom alone
is an idea that is sexy enough for me
to fashion umbrellas from bones
so,
no the weather may never be trusted
other than as a gamble-net-cast to stir the written words
though free-will, if you surrender here, time cannot find you
choose my electricity, rust my soul
my
strive for more, my drive patterns in the loam
my
mechanical crawls, sniff out words for the poem
as
if the poem alone will shield hollow memory from smells
corpses
all dressed in Sunday best, are robotic william tells
for
my targeted pens, herding cliff seekers, each to an ending
where
the door is a jar and an open one at that, bending
a fence of stolen fire, to get thrown through windows as a lucid angel's art
foundry-trance pounded, foraged, shaping each of my brittle skins, a start
EJR
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