Hunting The Lions

I. Summer

Needles into the precipice

  Volcano mighty and wide bellied

  Swallows the cataclysm's future

  We cast spears into each other's agonies

The ballet spirals over canyon rustic red sun whirls

  Action weighs actors the hours are long

  Unreal light sound the viewers catch fire

  Hollow basements and high offices

  Images lay siege

  The terrors of the unfortuned

  Become the terrors of entranced

  Free men who sit and wait

Tonight the lions hunt anywhere be here we are washed

  The leap in faith

  Is the walk with the spear down

  The foot sure the friends true

  Balance amid wide open roaring wheatless fields

  The prowl is dancing might

  Asserting much destroying more

  The task is a footstep away

  And another, another the broiling sun

II. Autumn

Dreams fall on sleeping war-weary soldiers

  The hush of the night impales the stillness

  With memories of dust and the day's hard warring

  The breeze is colder now

The sky freezes the drama pauses the old men look up

  Asking for a fair week extra the hunt drags

  The feet drag the snow flurries camoflages

  Gathering night and silence as a cloak

  The daggers march wild through silent houses

  Finding only sleeping men and women

  Barren fields cradling hushed

  Dwellings napping

In the shelter of the storm the awakening

  Weapons find the storage shelves

  Dusty and wait for the felentless

  Snows the ceaseless howling

  Sit in the darkness sharpening

  Their fantasies outside of time

  Clutter of half-felt dreams

  Spiral away in a whimsey

  A flight of forcast startled blackbirds

III. Winter

Wiretap the sucess

  Alter bending circles of influence

  Corrupt the flow of thought

  Our public massed in search

Of butterflies resiliant and deadly

  With science with a fine net

  Of explanation of words

  Deafened to the crackle of

  Fine leaves and blacked

  To the angry scent often hanging

  Shroud over winter white

  Eternal fields

Gaps in sight in the knowing's incredible aeons

  Where chimeras dandy and entreat

  Us to the suffocation of chaos

  The cameras go up the stairs

  Massed in search for the center

  Which eludes the tightrope

  Cantors in circle in darkness

  Just out of grasp

  Spears fly into the night

IV. Spring

Etched in crystal

  Quanta all these timeless pathways

  Stand poised to change us

  Each second we move

They multiply us

  Each look glance thought presence

  Each pass flash emotion sensation

  An army of futures

  The trees grow before our eyes

  The circles are joined departed rejoined

  Guns ready slogans armed flags and premanance

  Waving in a frozen wind

We give sex to the sexless we feel the time

  Sharp cold glass crystal arching arcing illuminated

  Not blue not black etching sillouette flikker

  Endless fractal forever green but not green

  A pause of boundary's edges a look across

  To see the turtles stacked each with

  Fine flowers and jasmine incense the

  Taste of tangerine accompanying them

  As they pause in passing through the fields

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