ReRites (Authentic Mirrors of long ago) [June 2017]

their bones, panting, swallow the sad authentic mirrors of long ago. curburned and modest lost Houses named ‘Wonder’ and a feminist cathedral given keys to oil glass. watching through everything were the mountains. and those birds who chop the truth of the world. the next gene soot blind crouch smashed bereft songs. forgotten filling gong disappoint favors crammed into the lab a river of audible frozen stillness bent drip rinds heaving the same ether heat ripples and wen falling wasps asked to softly study breath A long flay. Time alone will never be enuff. I like the tickets unclean and magnetised to this sad ground: a bridge of flames whose smoke holds clear stories. The empty peeled world. And there was the blood. Semaphor bed. Impulse, crypt, mottled ecstatic solace soaked with the pinnaclescence, and hair the bottom of birchendise.