the maw of man

acoustic clouds spin gold and the maw of man chatters its proverbial jaw

reaching across the horizon
gripping the throat of the sky
with a handful of shattered glass
it howls in seismic tongues
forcing the tempest to its knees
and leaving the wasteland for dead

blood drips down palms and falls from the sky like spidersilk

the clot of the world pools in a black bead on a single bulgar wheat

marveling at the reflection mirrored in this pinprick of ichor

drifting down from above
the wheat becomes a wave
the world’s bloody dew – an ink stain
an empty field awash

the same image tiled 64 bits across a screensaver
blinking blue in a bedroom rendered grayscale
an empty dial tone sings celestial praises in one dimension
directly UP against a ceiling without height
= 0.0 pixels

the sonic panacea slams with infinite force
against the laws of the universe
and the heat generated from these static convulsions
has already melted the world

the reverberations light years away
our post-epochal dreamscape
the aftershock's illusion
welcome to the maw of man