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)