The days clouds creating shattering, shadowing furnaces,  
None of us could stand so close  
To your ceiling an ocean, eyes of a lid in glowing coal  
  
Tempering a fragile strange stare, an old awe,  
Glassware that was passed to us  
When we were young,  
Looking up so frail,  
They rise to their grave,  
Harbour in the sky  
In the bolt of an eye  
  
The godly sins where sunshine ends,  
The things you say with the fury you took in the fall  
Nameless gods put up your road block,  
Play your show and roar  
How could we kneel?  
How could we be smaller?  
When you recognize the fear in our eyes  
With an impulse to split us in two.  
  
Afternoon light is dimmed, heat  
Subdued,  
Clouds  
Lending the  
Whole, a soft  
Cloister, thunderous  
Reverberations  
Grumbling  
In the  
Atmospheric  
Periphery, just  
Strong  
Enough,  
To be felt  
  
It is cool here  
The sky is calling as well  
Pregnant with rain,  
Hovering mass potential  
Wicked winds  
Eminent  
But her currents wear  
Silent mouth  
  
It is still enough  
To just be in it,  
Sticky with its dark  
Sweat clings  
To show its worth  
Closing in  
On permanence  
  
Like time is its currency  
And it might come down  
In silver coin  
That it would be imprinted  
The face of Nero  
And not  
The stamp of God  
  
What God exists  
In silver or  
By face  
By name at all  
Nevertheless  
The rain  
Its burden approaching  
So that we do not fiddle  
Or burn it down  
  
The electric in the sky  
A great battle, this  
Its inner turmoil fights  
Corrupts  
And blankets the sky  
Purple,  
Neon flash of a gate keeper without sword  
  
And perhaps it takes a little madness,  
A delicious drop, a  
Perfect  
Accent ingredient,  
A willingness to  
Bear  
The transformative  
Embrace  
Of naked flame,  
To love forces that  
Threaten with glowering black  
Brow, lowered to an angle  
That can  
Only  
Conclude  
In collision  
And ruin, twisted  
Horns protruding above a  
Neck  
Thick  
With muscle, which promises  
Only  
To ultimately  
Overcome us  
And all we've wrought  
In cold iron,  
Threaded in tightly  
Woven  
Rivets,  
All  
We've erected,  
For our enduring names sake,  
Rent to idle tatters with  
Great  
Chaotic  
Strides,  
Nameless gods, unconcerned  
With our rites  
  
Gods that uproot our long  
Cherished  
Hopes, secretly  
Harbored, too  
Precious  
To be  
Uttered, for fear they'd  
Flash  
And  
Dissipate  
Upon contact  
With the air  
  
Gods with the flippant  
Grin of a street corner  
Illusionist, with a flourish of  
Fluid  
Movement and practiced  
Ease, unmake  
The earth,  
Beneath our feet  
And erase,  
Our hand me down names  
  
This is how it goes  
With myself and the Magician  
And the Observer  
Of natural law  
When things with subtle edge  
Like talk about the weather  
Like a description of three different skies  
Unite in the mind’s eye  
  
The reverb of heart  
Blends into one sight  
A universal speculation  
Of what might come down  
And the parts of it that matter

There lives in the everyday
On a Wednesday late morning sidewalk
Of grimy city and in the small town
In the overcast of pregnant skies

Just plain folks
Blind enough of their own ego
To wear an immunity of self like a concrete saint

You see them in timeless pause
And watch in awe and ache
As blue and grey birds
With eyes as cloudy as your skies
Rest peacefully on their fingertips
Nurturing fat bellies with morsels of a sacred stillness

Eve's daughter in apron and wide skirt Hides apple bottom            
And her most delicious dish              
              
Bow tied behind slim waist              
Waits primly for her sweet meats              
And man              
              
Greets him              
Drink in hand              
An expert mixologist              
              
Creates the perfect coctail              
For her perfect ****              
              
2 parts Grand Marnier              
2 parts Ginger beer              
Splash of lime juice              
Garnish with:              
Very secret ingredient              
Sugar n salt rim stuck by oooey gooey vaginal slick              
              
Classy Dark 'n stormy              
And her mood              
              
🐍 Little does Eve's child know, her ***** duties are being watched and glasses are being raised, celebrating her desires and place in the world. A nightly gathering of would be saints and angels fallen in with sin raise their glasses and cheer "Salute!". Her *** inspired recipe's collected and kept dear in their hearts and hard ons. An **** like feast of delicacies are ravished,  savoring each bite, flavour like no other foods on Earth or in the heaven's. Key ingredient, the succulent female juices coaxed by fruits and the fruits of man.