Let the sun boil its way through

this ocean of reptilian spit nests,

let the rusty girders

like long neglected pencils

shift into the swallowing depths.

Let mint flavored air

flow over the strange blades

that have stopped moving,

let the chains of flesh

sag into the waiting coals

of the spirit's core

and be renewed in geometric fire.

Let the diamond

blink its rows of eyes

let the granite rivers

move.