:::poetry
Hearken
Call to me, my heart, from the far side of the canyon
Cavern walls painted
crushed berries on the stone, smeared moss, the streaks across my head elated

The cavern edge, the ledge
Basal's painting, aching in my lower back, the limestone bed
Hearken, heart atop the crevice parked, making angels in the lush sedge

Call again, aluminum it echoes as it vibrates my bed
Life light, lighting, the pillow underneath my head
Sleeping with the devil, Jesus oldest friend
Radiation peaking through the entrance, vulgur licking, luscious sense

Hearken, call back to me once more,
the flicker of your distant fire paints the ghosts
dev'lish whorling all across the vaulted ceiling in my dervish hole

Conversating at the water hole; me, the scepter of the spectral king,
the palace where the fairy curls

The imagination canyon,
where a distant sight can strike ecstatic,
dropping capsules of the whole world.
:::