Squiggle your descent into the sand
     With a stick
           Trace the enumerated crystals sentence thick
              Rare is no man; granules under toes
                The tide rushes in and away we go

Leaflets containing turnip seed set atop the frost
For a universe fragmented into continents
Name them, grant their history
Divine the spine from the Christ, the bent

The birds take in the glassiline water
Running from the cracks in Time
(that scab swelling with doctors, dementia)
The scurrilous cloud cover sprinkling brine

Whetted breaths stung with an unclaimed heart
And my hands moisten with moss
Spring balances my chest within its rhyme
The shroud and the deconstructed cross

The ferreted blade
The nave, unafraid
Of insanity, of screaming
She wields her sword
This Universe, our bruised Lord
Wrought with the battle of gravity
Blue robes woven of eternity

A single gold band atop her Crown
I peel the skin back from my hands
Place the pieces upon the ground

Her gaze unsettles God
A truth to refute the Infinite Lie
My body will mend what I have stripped
(Love being the chemistry of reprise)

Remark is to tune words from the dark.
The infinity of infinity is the prism of Beauty
Dividing creation into October and March
It is colored with quasars so the poets see

What is the chief end of man?
A Cobbled heart nailed to celestial countermand?
?Children as poppy seeds plucked from the wind?
(Their colors are true and highlight the sin)
University dissected my soul from the trees
Virginity broke the Gods, hemp and rosemary beads
Gravity grappled and wrested, as a sworn enemy
So I escaped, a leap carnival
                      Sewed the rhyme of insanity

The long whine of the universe degrading the mind
I give to words that thud and grip, the rinds
Of the conversations my brother and sister blister
Bottles of Percocet and ***** … and Persian limes

A limber, reticent arithmetician,
Our mother divided us by Time, the magician
Our mother and the lessons too deep to swim
All our lives forgiving sunlight for getting in

The Devi's Thumb... Bacchus, Heaven
A Mass for the repose of the souls of the dead
Desire, emotion and knowledge
Pacing the tongue over what’s said

The Mayans wave from earth.
Jim Morrison sleeps, his face the girth
Of creation, unfurled
And turned to dawn
The heart concedes the infinity beyond