Photosynthesis

Would her eye blink,
The sound would be a whisper to her frenzied footsteps
So black a blanket she wraps ‘round her ancient Mother
The waves (both shoes and shore) hurl her masochistic tears toward heaven.
And Grendel’s teeth do gnash in kind

Second hand smoke echoes second hand shine
Bidding apocalyptic turpentine
And that same fire, that brilliance, that ire
Blinds the sky with blood of dawn
And Hyperion’s gaze so fierce flares on

Accelerated ambition, shadowless and brave
Mature both in lens and length
A whisper to the grave
This is the din in your mouth
And this is the double helix spiraling towards the sky


Maverick
11:31:49 PM