Whatever else is fiddle, my Earth
comes to meet the arc
of what I am sculpted
meld spirit with body brain
clay is always falling, this scepter island
will bobble on the static of
a world hunkering backward into speech.

Open telepath mind, universal swoop
of endless hunger
reaching the totems of finality
passing into perfect darkness
colored and re-colored with
the touch of reality's blood
fallen from the trunk of
high-reaching souls,
speaking to be recorded
and not felt.  Imprisoned
in the belly of this legal talk,
scythed hack of matter.

The border's twerked on circuitry
of power, goddess tree humming with amps
melody is a buzz in the daisy bright chain
encircling a campfire
guns melted on the hearth
and bronzing back at the sun
its bullet error of man.