Arches of Spines

Arched

As a lung breathing for all her birds
Boughed are the branches on Mercy Boulevards

Quill of arrows tourniquet the past,
Feel like a whore when you’re bleeding
 
Fear of trespassers,
All flowers bend towards the sun
Withered in the great unwashed

Fate, tempted,
The jet streams urgently screech
History does not wait.
Tempted to create fate

We spy with our little eyes
Something beginning with poem,
Is God really fucking with us
When invitations to sonnets
Are scrawled on cigarette packs?

Absence from life is easy when
You become a stranger to yourself,
Send in the clouds instead of clowns
Stratus symphonies cast prophecies over you

Arched

On the bow of the Titanic it was envy
Who folded deckchairs into the sea,
After the final act, to-be be-two,
The actors bowed betwixt mountain and ocean