The Foundations of Flesh

Passaged,
Through a mountain side,
Passing,
Past,
Ignoring time,
This lust,
Of heat,
These mapped currents,
Just paths,
Unfolding maps,
To find,
Lost stations of flesh,
Of both day,
And of night,
Of abandoned arms,
And of lonely legs,
Of rough skin,
And of coarse hair,
Now found,
Explored,

And plotted,
And tunneled,
Passed through stone,
Upside down,
Kabbalah shade,

Cabal,
Casted branches and limbs,
And twigs,
Shadowed
Onto rocks,
That which devours,
Foundations,
And granite platforms,
Gnawing at the roots of trees.

Sensoria

Send,
To sensors,
Motion,
Sensed,
Detectors,
And movements,
Sent,
Settings,
Moving,
And detection,
Set,
For senders,
And move.

Your Eye is a Black Hole

Crevice,
Collapsing
And Contained,
Apart,
In parts departing
For keepsakes,
Holding onto the opening,
Of the opened,
Skeletal cavity,
Crypts kept,
Keeping,
Creeping corridors,
Snaking,
And worming,
Now bound,
Markings mar,
And married to,
This site,
Sought seeing.
Marked and spitting,
Like poisoned,
Held and tearing,
Like taloned,
This bone hole,
Plucked raw and red,
Empty,
Eye of God.