Inquisitress
In lazy dreams
She fashions gold from
The sunset
And fire from the corner
Of an eye
Flayed by the spark
Of a thousand impulses
The braid is carefully coiled
Around an axion spire
Streaking the gap
Between knowledge and reason
Thoughts melt from her mind
A gray state eruption
From a hazel iris
Leaps a cone of perception
Massaging the thoughtscape
With sensual precision
The dark orbs will lock
At a critical moment
Trapping the quarry
Like an escapee in the light
Herded back with its bretheren
To the fine tipped pinnacle
These data are sacrificed
To illuminate the night
And with each flashing cycle
Of earthquake precession
New paths will be laid
From the wrong to the right
MC (03.13.01)