"In This Field" -- "Our Empty Sea"
In This Field
Queued workers
process in silent rows
wearing faces grooved by commerce into masks.
Etched inside a timeworn intaglio
is an unconscious V that is deep and
thin.
Beneath tin arms marking ornate clocks,
manque figurines
pirouette each half hour;
as clockwork ticks and tocks into thunder grow
becoming the hammer blows of a grand piano
in Dis.
Etched inside a
timeworn intaglio
are paper channels where ancient voices
remain.
Eyes fail on the heads of frayed apparitions
unable to decipher what is
real and who
is not.
Clockwork
ticks and tocks into thunder grow,
under corrugated rooftops eigth-notes
pound
home into a perlieu of rapt Perdition.
Unable to look out of
windows, unable
to go outside;
eyes fail on the heads of frayed
apparitions
driven to desperation by the suffering of
supermen.
Sanity smells
like formaldehyde
it is stuffed into a dusty jar, into a
funeral
home, into a perlieu of rapt Perdition.
There is no jubilee in faith,
only in freedom
only broken shackles grant manumission.
Admire the
beatitudes sandwiched within sweet
unconscious V, for
sanity
smells like formaldehyde;
it is pinned down, analyzed by children
biologists.
Beneath tin arms marking clocks
wearing faces grooved by
commerce into masks;
only broken shackles grant manumission.
On the
floors of major cities, on a million
broken cuffs
queued workers
process in silent rows.
Our Empty Sea
1.
Under our empty sea a turquoise world exists
as a sickly changeling
beyond recollection
in trench, plateau, plain, barrow of cloudy
schist.
On tossing desert continuum resides
a pacific mind
and in ocean mind there is no drying soil.
Only whales consider the
possibility of
a surface
above bright heaven¹s sky of
amethyst.
2.
At pencil thin ends of falling daylight beams
in trench, plateau, plain,
barrow of cloudy
schist;
a coterie of philosophers gathers to
theorize
of crossing high oceans under clouds
of full sail.
3.
We may follow the descent of black backed
emperor penguins
from
above bright heaven¹s sky of amethyst,
into the open jaws of
unimpressed killer whales
compelled to sing on ocean floor the prayers
of killer whales.
4.
While posed as sailing angels we were tattooed
on high,
in tomorrow¹s
gray swelling skyscrapers pale
to become now useless ballast stones as a
sinking
hull
sweetens unknown landscapes undreamt of.
5.
Do not mourn the passing of sea creatures
into sustenance
crossing
high ocean under clouds of full sail;
that unwholesome meat, tossed red
into sponginess
sweetens unknown landscapes undreamt of.
And
forever anon and forever anon penguin
compelled to sing on ocean floor the
prayers of
killer whales
weep to be allowed to drink from flukes of
heartless brine
for in ocean mind there is no drying soil.
6.
Fashion scrimshaw as your craft teases
mumbling heaves
for in
tomorrow¹s gray swelling skyscrapers pale.
Let terran sand dissolve
within faultless sea
for under our empty sea a turquoise world exists.
