that iconic alphabet I imagine . . .
cuneiform lines and words I want to write . . .
transfer hermetic thought that risks engagement . . .
gather foreign ideas from both left and right . . .
stack alien expression up and down . . .
vocal towers in some idealistic arrangement . . .
deranged I'm typing mist and clouds . . .
carving poems out of life's gifts and estrangement . . .
I wonder if these ideas are some infringement . . .
do ghostly words reveal cringing spectres . . .
hidden by darkened veils and flowing shrouds . . .
what about that shimmering holy ghost . . .
could the glimmer of a timid breeze . . .
host any creative or rigid revolution . . .
perhaps the turgid earth itself . . .
might crack wide open . . .
break a sacred seal . . .
repeal all those sinful written things . . .
penance and atonement cannot heal . . .
now my heart and spine are tingling . . .
I'm appealing to a squelching dragon . . .
something filched mingling with my senses . . .
I'm wanting to rise up . . .
expose every belching dragon's fiery tongue . . .
I want to roar so loudly . . .
that the frigid moon will shake . . .
create an earth shattering quake . . .
erupt like the fiery sun . . .

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