04-12-2025, 08:00 AM
The Flood and the Land
Speaking to dead runes, the boneparchment
still circulate my palms
making real in ways that living words
tepefy through valid arcs and chains.
Though fertile fields enriched through
my spinal humor quicken the pool
from heat below; appropriate camels hold
their standing water—like men, vapid ideals.
The necessary desert made safe terrain
for the crossing, marks a man seeing less
than half; taking for God, a man.
Cast back into former tides of his mind,
my heart makes a fusion more pro than con,
as I sift through quick and silver tides,
I screen dead thoughts and blast all censors;
shaking from my dusty hands, pure Gold.
Speaking to dead runes, the boneparchment
still circulate my palms
making real in ways that living words
tepefy through valid arcs and chains.
Though fertile fields enriched through
my spinal humor quicken the pool
from heat below; appropriate camels hold
their standing water—like men, vapid ideals.
The necessary desert made safe terrain
for the crossing, marks a man seeing less
than half; taking for God, a man.
Cast back into former tides of his mind,
my heart makes a fusion more pro than con,
as I sift through quick and silver tides,
I screen dead thoughts and blast all censors;
shaking from my dusty hands, pure Gold.