Fierce letters printed on wilting skin,

a glaze of blood to polish timber

and take down the skies,

hands clasped on the disc

of an airport dining table,

zones of ordered paint

rushing sentient space,

I can't talk, I must stare

into the voidless yawn that crackles,

I must know its unforced embrace

where the parched ground heals

and wounds with wetness,

bridges cross the chasm's

multicolored light,

my delicious torment redeems

the tragedy of my elders,

I see wings in shit, the corpus

emblazoned with frauds

that have become genetic,

the stones go quiet

in their slow decay,

the water wades into me,

I am a sea invaded

by this unwelcome body,

the eye is all, the poles of vision

are making shapes from a hell

of elaborate echoes,

the sun cools on waning rye

my wallet is a folded leaf

that holds a supernatural seal,

the gash of a gone root waits

my feet are numb to finding

the sleep of mercy ends in ecstatic birth.