Placing a nuclear device in horizons
of sandstone, pulverizing walls,
telluric life...shouting obscenities the ground above rattles
windows fifteen miles away--hactcin
run for cover.
A blue mysterious glow rising with no shape vanishes
into Earth's opened hands etched with dermatoglyphs, osteoarthritic
fingers painfully offer a holocaustic host in the rigor of Death's
What do cockroaches
feel nesting in palms itchy with primeval fear? At critical
mass, light squares scarabs etched at the height of prayer.
is the enemy hiding in this weedy
transitional plot? Wild plums
wither on healthy limbs, the hundred-headed narkissos
is plowed under with New World mushrooms
wet, from perennial tears.
All the dead are innocent
of war, with no viable sides anymore we are not even beings
but seeds of Being germinating hungry ghosts, choking on odors of sophistic
schemes, following the glow up.