As if the blood ran transparent
Through circular ramparts
(A messenger of sweltering metallurgy
Working its machinations abstruse,
Tireless through the decades
Of gradual disintegration.)
As if the plasma
Spoke its magmatic keynote
Into the gently warming air
(Body above bodies, phasing upwards
To trace gyroscopic soulstrokes
On the celeste sky)
As if falling
Straight through
The stone, the stream,
River bed, the sand, the mantle
(Sanguine hawks govern
Complement portions in
Magnetics, yearning for the
Embrace that never seems to come.)
As if the liver became
Aware of their mortality
(Erase the sophistry,
Raze the pompous monuments.)
As if it all comes back to dust
And fire and water and light
(Streams running in channels
Of their own fashioning.)
As if the blood innately soars
(Through purgatorial intersections)
To open stony doors.
@d-pend