Through What Was Once An Anger In My Vein

through what was once an anger in my vein

grand scales for my wheat hut on a mud patch grill

truant walls on pastures polaroid.

for the corn that cured the mangrove

star-white for the brown tree crush

pigeons wrapped as lemons in our arms;

the mad room died as quiet stirred it's bed broth

as mad as heads; as wide as canyon jaw

our hands not once had dared to eat the rose;

our chair of wake where rocked our wooden trail

it's creeking feet on boards of narrow dust

visioned only the sunburn on our brains;

through what was once a thimble for our blood

our ceiling crawled. our crucifix

now safe upon the footprints of the tailed broom;

the arc that now eludes our flock of hair

our table bound. our ankles layed

our secrets safe within the knowledge of the grain;

through what was once a journey through the snare

now a race with the termites to the cause

to surface our possession; book and crawl;