Something is speaking
in the language of
orange areoles
in the manner of
black plaques and
silvery-gritted miniature
British soldiers or
are they spiders’ flagons
one must imagine
the thrill and eclipse both
when something is delivered
in the tenor of
velvet tripes trenching
the squalid rock
things that blanch over it
messages rampant
restrictiveness hey
you have to listen
in the impress between
passages thatched of
biogeochemical
realities something is
pitching in an effort to
extenuate to somehow
expand on the tangible
synthesis “rare and
hardly gotten”
don’t you realize
the implications of
mind-blowing bare
horizontals where
someone always
vanishing trespassing
is.