The fate of archery as a cure for inferno
is concealed in gaps of applause
as the stadium erupts in shuddering soul flung skin
over another arrow shot into the Sun
“Cantilever, anon!”
Crying out, a miscreant fan
leered into a boy as high as the desert moon
(his cats running in a bow sight by the river)
“Balla!”
18 rings of cotton separating
the human race from glass tree houses
SHA secure hash algorithms
and resource reservations spill
from a woman’s bra like candy from a child’s curving limb
the time of the random assay
in delicate cupping, shut eyes, pounding heart
a heavy plastic fitting ( QUIVER )
hierarchical transport layers…
Reasonable thrashing of the bull’s eye
in the winding line of bladder stuffing ink stain men and boys
winding down to the field like ants dancing around a sewer
the face of reference models
shadowed by compound bows leaning against the steel door
of the home team’s locker room
twenty-pound models
layered protocols
(SKIN lying in the crease
hot pork beef lamb steam
praying beggars washed away by Flood)
severed shoulders o’ overbows
soul curling the weight of Io
weightless earthen caches holding
year long sulfur and induced gold
teeth in the mouth of another