these barking steps crush
the rind of their fruit.
stumbling
on a stairway spun to a cloud.
flaying
the meaty gorge of the heart--
the spittle of invective left
to crust.
all cover to be taken, has
been taken--the hour hails!
were ice stone,
and inner climate house to
transparency.
a Promethean liver would not soak
in drink, barely dull to its
ritualized beak.
the stars align a word that
has gone back on itself, good
to the forever of its reason.
the more heavy-handed a man,
so twice the force be struck...
humble made in the pooling
daze of tears.