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Cyclops 338- 339
Your head, with all the other debris
Hurtling away from justice
Along with the dogs and the limbs and the angels,
All departed all joined in their velocity
We may one day find ourselves on islands of gold
Brought there by honorable trajectory
Shot through with remains of angels
Left worshipful at the bay where few still stay
Where we discover the giants and have
Some sympathy for them
Where we make promises hourly
That we have no intention of keeping
The progress of the faithful winds its way
The beaches and bitter ridges
Furiously driving toward some new Elijah.
1 comment:
Skull & Hands. Really nice. Nice placement as well.
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