Clocks Melt Gravestones (Crazy Bones)
Clocks melt gravestones, stars melt the knees
Of funerals carnalled by moonlight;
Bark devours claws in rubber trees,
The dignity of Gnostic tombs
Is the sleepless cock’s circular chime,
Mornings orphan the Sun which looms
Dawn, an echoless stadium
Filling itself with pales of light,
Ancient monuments rot the breeze
And our breath sways the planet’s plight;
Clocks melt gravestones, stars melt the knees
Of sepulchre’s exiled by night,
The smirking corpse collecting seas.
Tragedy cracks wreak (Samuel Stone’s epitaph)
Tragedy cracks wreak across roots and moss,
Spirit chiseled in stone reflecting rock,
Sprouting from undulating pyramids
Returning itself to October’s gate.
We confer whether or to let the flower
Morphing into black and white cats inside.
It’s odd, childhood beauty dismantles here.
Things only forged or fully grasped when ends
Are conceived or embodied by our forms.
(Like the bird’s trumpet, the church bells squire)
There’s a man of sand cuffing every land,
Skipping amongst stones turned inward by dust or brass.