The early hour desert sands mill like hearts churning
Conscious blood, sun dried coke distilled from burning
Ground cast up into dust from first to ages of Swenet stone
Eugenic hornbook diction fills the old word bags of bone

Primeval gardens of family love to till perś e is chosen
Reveal the promised lands of hour goblets to grow in
At peace heaven asleep with weary winners coming home
Return as dust to primordial Syenitic bags of bone

Tides roil to mound to cirrus seas of composing grandeur
Fertile mind untwists the vine wrung of life to hand her
Wry mind, cloud, and storm ice ablution rain to rivers flown
The demodulated diction of animal man in the bags of bone

Drink at the river’s edge in spite of freight
Weave the mathematics to beauty and insight
Disobedience reveres pagan tribes and Rome
All roads that run afoul of that bag of bones

The lift of the fielder’s hand defends the stores of man
The substance in the spirit safe keeping nature’s plan
Pebble mosaics link checkered beauty to artless clones
Rivers move, the surface tithe for fertile bags of bones.

Weathering soul turns the pitch peal’s shuck to hull
From beauty’s value sand and pebble bone and skull
Mentors in the science of the ablution of clones
Tattoo the totems that briefcase the bones

In the spirit created in him
In them for him and by him in them
By spirit light the stars are shone
A coming forth by day from bags of bone

The oils flow in saxophone cone to the seas of sand
As toil is sure to scale and range to hedge the bets of man
The breath of solar winds atone the sins of lords of nome
Man emerges as grebes from skies of seas of bags of bone.