VENOM AND ETERNITY

do they ask again
if the black iron prison
is some mythologisation
of the reification of bifurcation
the loss of the mouthfeel of the nagual

or do they posit somehow
somewhere
now and local
that poetry
in both films and painting
may first twist the bifurcatory shackle
and then procede
to split it in twain
with the shattering sentences
first alluring as words
then both limping and dancing as letters
and finally blooming
organically

as bodies of the vortex
in which venom and eternity
might conjoin
in the shadow
of some deformed and gorgeous
stele of natural stone
and the seam of jibberish
seal and therefore open up

these red jade veins
bridged achingly
between soft yellow ears
of angular pollen
wee eyes peering from its
gland pits gleaning all
for punteggiatura


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