Ari Nystrom Rice

Echoes of Up and Down

To Lucifer my conscience treks a path

Down upward spirals builten temple’s hull

Such lullabies of orchards are his wrath

What harvest’s feed spurs echoes of the skull?

Do I walk back and back across the seed?

Plentiful with their bewildered light’s star

And I, the gardener tempted by need

Throw careless handful at soils endless scar

In a theoretical where is up?

For I swirl a revolved product again

Directionaly paralyzed mix up

this great bed, a flesh, felt like acids hot rain

But, like infinity I am not scale

So I, alone, staggered, walk this trail.