II i i II

into unpolished silver waves thrashing
leaf masked figures born in mid-spin
calligraphy’d forth from some paused ceremony
where saffron blacked-out into demure moods

two i’s, unconcerned with seeing or being seen,
assemble unashamed Otherness inside an exhausted presence

Space, drunk off Time, questions
Matter, through quiet-eyed silk creatures
rising in irrelevant scorched forests
improvising themselves into simple answers, again

not a single leader left grinning after
a single opulent lie settled in Fire’s torso
liberating bevies of denied ideas & unsuccessful insults
above those two i’s who hallucinated themselves into the blank page

Rose cloaked beings arrive revitalized from forgotten mirrors
chanting in abandoned languages
of invisible gardens crowded with succulent black nectarines
dripping ash soaked harmonies hummed while
blank eyes glow hungerless vermillion vines from blank bodies
reeking of turmeric & cinnamon, not a muscle near a bone
beneath all that translucent flesh marinated in phosphorescent prayers,
held by hematite silks clinging to damp shadows after amber storms