FIRE WALKER'S CIRCUIT

Torn bark hymns to naked wood
mute stalks to be melted mouths
picnic on flowered blankets,
pine and pomegranate palms
sap's rubber sole, ashy alleys
between treads, pineal thread
to blaspheme death, life draws tight
lovers departed from childhood
with nobody's god lurking.

The ledge is a priceless lip
the brightest eye on earth
overlooks.  Spoken tongues turn
back to the body with images
to be buried on its inside-out.
Flowers from the nose, cavern
vines the eyes through,
thatches of a smashed basket
surrounded by many gun twigs.

Rim of outskirts, torch under the earth.
God's in the kneecaps, water's fence
and depth, all breaking things.