possessions, multilithic cities.
Man treasures
his attempts at permanence
but God sees value
in what has been broken.
In the vision of many rivers
in the redefinition of solitude
in the mineral waves of overlap
in the egg of sanctuary
born against oppression
in the capes of a comically noble satan
ripping like old theater curtains
I follow the heaps of her roiling hair
as it rips the beam of this freak reality circuit
I find a conduit between dreams
and fall into its dusty box of screws
I am sowing the bones of old lives
together with grudging harmony
I am watching the cliffs
and their stilled
blood gush of hills
work it out.
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