when came the carnivore
this land of the grateful deed in her silk of man,
as once as child in a severed state on the risen mesh.
through the black straw to the stable of the great eye,
the morning flesh shone light on the unknown souvenir,
through the arces of the painted winds on the warlords hands,
came crossbone grave for the jilted bone of fetlock.
half human, half mankind
half fable tales of broken heart and insect,
somewhere, but far beyond the dungeon walls,
came gusts of fragrant hailstone on the tall seeds from the sun;
from crouching ape to the straightened spine of charcoal,
once no more than just a servant to the sea-reel
now a cavalcade of carnival on the worming tide,
two bridles west of the milk-worm feeding Sunday,
now we worship feet of clay with our candles feathered,
lighting saffrons bride for the married eyes of the dragons fruit,
as our bibles bricks and mortar scrawls of rubble as it crawls;
when came our carnivore,
so came the white fleshed wings of suppers last.
this land of the grateful deed in her silk of man,
as once as child,
now a severed state on the risen mesh.
where now lives safest hands on the burning soil?