made by human hands/from elements of the ground/and from afar/silver gold and star/burning without memory/or clear trajectory/in a ritual of prayer/and smoke-filled arena air/the only thing that shines forth/the peril and glory/an endlessly rewritten story/of their own sudden demise
Standing at the launching of rabid filibustering grenades, soaring high, bursting brilliant, reeking havoc --chaos like inner city canyons imploding in on themselves; --then again-- news breaks of blood on a naked white girl, and the memory of them fades...
