angels are at terrors, disrupting existence, laughing and mourning. at a
shoebill’s brain, mad kleptic excitement, our dreams flayed by fears. as casual
monsters, at hands to harms, at wars sprouting blood gardens. a cavity in hearts,
the clove of smaze, our destinies showered by deaths. if to our shadows, as shorn
our visions, are watching our repenting, our towers. the faithful eye-scar, the
inborn lease, our features as slanted demons. that wolf at landscapes, the
Chinese vice, our imps sautéed. that woman into secrets, the furtive irony,
scribing senses, they pass by—if wilderness struck, the essence in thieves, to
cut with silence the inner creek. such powerful apes, an elephant’s mind drapes,
like furious cheetahs … as men dying, forced to apologize, our white oak, a
tear emphatic: a shifty turn, the fern to cores, at leisure compelled to treason.
