Black livers?
Are you really desperate
after a vision? Miasma
rising?

A disheveled sky was
calculating. Tide was turning
back carrying the
tremors of shores.

Was that true, you faith
thinning? I see myself
getting ready for slanting moon
eating seeds of death.

It tears through
the veils of abstract. Are you
looking back at paralyzed
sun who has swallowed a stabile?