The tremble in the lairs at sunrise
assumes a new macerate majesty
to look into the beauty of the trees
in the sweet days of late October.
The primary ultrasound of the bells in the swoon’s hour
spangled by luminous knots.
We are an extreme azure-blue race
– new appearances erected
towers
receptions
exploded towers
that slowly collapse.
The precipice of a body in time,
purged of houses
in the imminence of a secular paradise.
Inside monstrances of snow
I found the faces of the soldiers, black hosts
– scales
– hearts
of grubs,
poor hearts soaked with matter.
A dark ruminating under layers of snow.