The expanding body make a guttural soundhiding the mechanisms of thought behind the skin of visibility
like waking ancestors at the point of contact
here where the behavior is interrupted
we all close in from the sea to a welcoming bay
well lighted by the secret routine of morning's
dull effort to rise without truly getting up.
The seconds are counted by the extremes
of the engineer's clock building time into a defenseless
second body and extra shadow
that walks like the notes of a guitar
on an old second-hand LP.
The three Johns of the Old Testament:
He waits for his brother.
He waits for the light.
And he awaits The Dragon.
The perfect square is lighted now
between the male and the female
between the guttural sound of the holy body
and the sudden waking of ghosts
slipping into a beat of redemption that comes like
lightning's fractures at the end of a field.
-- tonguing the buildings growing from the rocks like salt crystals
that core out from inside the mystical rose,
and these words help midnight, a starry escutcheon
springing from the hollow earth,
deflecting the mundane.
Thus heaven and earth are finished
with a shell of paranoia and a protective skin of our space brothers
stretched taut by the turns of the Ghost Dance.
