It’s all a blazed gold,
A tirade of the mouth, loosed in a volley of sun’s own
gorgeous rays,
Smoothed over time
In an instantaneous recognition at Earth’s bare wonderment,
The stir of our breath
In the wind and pulse of sweat from the face
At true love’s rhyme
Under clouds, glowing with the luster of sky and an
atmospheric rain
Bellowing in the blown heat
A thunderous moisture in the kiss from a Columbian Goddess,
An aged summer
That brings with it the fruits of the middle passage
Where the door to social fruition wanes
And the spiritual partakes in a lonely direction from home
to a new name,
The new cry with mouth, and eyes darkening
With a scolding pass into the burn of Earth’s delicate
orbital flux,
Deeply woven into the mind and heart
That roams our galaxy in living pleasure,
To state with reclaimed ambition, a new prophecy
In the mud of our volatile rearing
A cooling shade and the nerves of her presence, unmoving at
Love’s name,
Sharing the lust of the universe in a laugh
With the buzz of insect systems cursing and unnerving the
elegant sky
With smoke from the throat of the war machine herself,
Lady Pan in the cradle of civilization softly whispering to
the American man
About a way into the wide crevasse of Western dirt,
As a Pharaonic law, broken across the tablet of an unborn
religion
Bought for oil,
Calling gross environmental sound to nothing
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