mjknight Author, dreamweaver, visionary – plus actor.

Flies

• July 23rd, 2009
• 9:44 am

Flies, all the time. Flies,
and so the time flies.
It rides in the incense of saints,
circumnavigates
scent and heat and death—
sweet breath—
heat and scent,
death and heat and scent.
Vulture-ringing upendedness, ebbs
idling, innocuous, tactile but slippery,
upon shaky souls, upon a smouldering field of battle
still not won. Beelzebub.

• poem