27 July 2021

 

    and what of these beasts

defanged and starved

   dehorned and vulnerable 


     and what of all we've built

deformed by fire


fragile and brittle

   fingers grasping at the sky


whatever gods in gold and

     light

whatever devils in silver

     gloom


   they’ve turned their backs 

and they have abandoned us


their most promising 

     and beloved

   enterprise 


     we've pulled the whole 

of this gifted apparatus 

   down and around our feet


bewitched in cogito

     self-assuredly we trampled 

   the life from it


in the remaining ash and dust 

   pressing down

onto our crooked and 

     peeled nape


     we the vessels of undiminishing

disappointment in disheveled 

   and brazen locutions

     wail out our laments


and all those beasts

     and whatever of the

remaining birds


  mock our petitions 

and trace the gentle arcs of 

     necessity and annihilation 

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