wild onion fractal

FROGLORDS

seven sublime lords practice breathing

their chests cease movement and bold eyes alight

fever rips ancient hearts glow of dawn in burning rushes

sieving colored stone pellets grouped in greens and reds and blues

choosing novitiate class of dreams lone source of learned pride

the idealistic stylings forced then freed from mortal limitation

so wetness space ether

so binds the homeless jargon of me of my
pain for the blessings of strangers
hands are the motive
for who we are
for what we do
to those
minds blissless and mammalian and freakish
intent on destination at the end
cold sidewalk twist cul-de-sac
red blood is an excuse
to upload morality
and sorrow an amphibian shield
against reptilian elegance