Oh diminish my inward monocle,
(Cross)
Vast Temples release
soothing deliriums.
To relate continuities
vibrant,
transparent Orbs
and Infant Auras.
Concept-Christ has
so been born,
like Middle Ages
Halo-Frame,
Primal Angers wash
Forward Maidens,
like God and Me
there is No Ending.
I beheld a Serpent Pilgrim,
He grimaced violet ginger songs,
Bread-men released kaleidoscope voices
dying unto oven airs.
A quiet flower spoke images,
of angels and casino wheels,
incense children poured coloured music
in dancing vesseled incantations.
Devoid of me,
there is still
the Laughter of our Celebrations.
(II)
First the Joy of Tso,
our ecstasies shared,
in Vision’s Spectrum Innocence,
Glittering Chapels and Supper Clubs.
Saints file forward,
delighting in a hidden meal,
while icons stare from walled shoulders,
Dementia’s Wine and Aged Presidents.
“Are we fools to resurrect the gods?”
she asked my ancient primal,
winged revulsions of before,
“before”
Thank you
Oh
My
Food Father.
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