There it is, a-**** sun, thickly entwined like Rapunzel's locks.
The crowd has come odder than odds, tattered rags enmeshed to
their crevices, they reek to low hell.
The air moves sideways, caught at the throat unable to sing.
What is this furor that has eaten the margins of a public square?
The crowd keeps pressing forward, as if to confront the macabre
march of their lives, their slights cleave about with such precision
that vultures go blind.
Some occult watershed moment is pin-pricking bumps of coarse
flesh.
Arms club and flail skulls dumb to impact, erogenous zones are
clicked on, there's an undulation that would make ***** revisit
the human form.
Bodies of dead weight tantrum, demonic babes trying to awaken
an idol whose face is painted intricately with ***** smears.
A priori convicts herded to crowd, one and all--the sky above
wants to usurp their earthen haunt, loosing them to rich black
space, where their rich black may chase their absconded breath.
Their eyes are blitzed, blinking a million times before each take.
They don't even see one another, they've liquefied, no ordinary
stupor at present, but rare form in the raw.
Their words piggy-back sentences from all angles, there's no
oral history to be found, this type of language must ferment.
Its impetus is a rogue whose corporeality cannot be lined by a cage.
Their pores pop open as incidental eyes, stroked to a trance by
splintering limbs hurling into a Bosch like guffaw.
Full admittance for inappropriate timing...nature's lectern overtaken,
stumbled upon--with such a dominant pretense that Socrates will
sew his lips in the grave fully knowing he knew nothing.
Here...here is their meat, their package out of thin air.
The crowd's vibrating, the criminal's feet shimmy forth under those
vibrations...ice hath materialized for them.
A noose blows brighter and brighter holes, the crowd seems to dive
into them--fully enamored.
Gallows polished to perfection, edited by a unanimous authorship.
The fine crackle of a neck, the crowd rerouted...combing their faces,
trying to obscure their quivering mouths...quivering mouths
articulating euphoria to such a degree it is worth guarding.
*I envisioned crowd psychology at a public hanging during the
Dark Ages.