failing that

on the bridge of puppets
regal knights of crimson chrome
pilot their shaggy mantises
into the dawn of the sunset
of feeling

there is no inside
to a knight
the hallowed hollow
is however overcome
by the density
of this random prose
whose autotelischism
has rendered every logic
a picture

and lanterns fringe
the helical bannister
each raising sets of banners
at the cardinal points
here is where the mirror of the path
and its major molecule
overperforms

puppets cling ferociously together
while spanning the abyss
their feeling gives the copula form

oh pontiffs
start your engines
while this river
runneth over


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