In a world of black republicans, I
stand perpendicular to the earth as
the stars glow over the collective eye
of dreamtime consciousness, life as pure flash:
Crashing shards of light, golden and prickly
cascades of deep bass – rippling and riding
on the currents of dark thought – flow swiftly
like saltwater ripples' sweet high tidings:
Careening through veins, burning out essence,
corroding white china with red windmills
as the fork and knife spill out the life; sense
the meaningless entente between waves and hills:
They're gravely ill to adopt those beliefs;
it's like spilling blood upon coral reefs.