Sunday, September 26, 2010

In the Eye of the Sun

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Oxen of the Sun 404

A creature of peril a
Veritable Aristotle superman human
Born of castigation find your
Heat as if carried through with
Authority with copulation the
Impression of the Minotaur occasions
A desire of supreme entertainment
You are made for metamorphosis
You are made for abnormality
You are made for hypothetical sadness
You were handed down from alleged explanation
You were found among the words but then shortlived
But then made of native conjunction
But then better known as argument
But then arisen from madame god
But then left in a forbidding country
On a pile of syringes
On a pile of monsters
On a rock of fable

1 comment:

Kate said...

I keep coming back to this poem, each line falls like a blow to the body.