in the greatness

from his minaret

a muezzin calls,

seeing new light lengthen

into shadows on the streets

as those of prayer approach,

first of five calls

that he never forgot

he served god as a voice,

sound of wings caught attention

a white falcon landed before him

perched on stone edge

head tilted

eyes spoke more than the beak,

voice faltered in mid call

from the remnants of dark

tattered crows flew in

looking for the rejected brother

kaf left behind,

muezzin touched falcons face


as the faithful below watched,

crows taunted minaret

hollow eyes caught flash

of gold,

muezzin had been spoken to

a journey to be undertaken

to which of the seven valleys

he was unsure,

he had to find the bond and unity

that once nurtured earth

as he had remembered it,

with falcon on arm

stepped down spiral staircase

a purpose found

boxcar funeral parlor

the prairie became an extension of the city

thanks to the railroad

so finding solitude was easy,

in the yard steaming hot

through haze cyclops diesels

rumbled threatening inert freight,

a man nimble over tracks

knew passage between the lines

many years spent here

living on the perimeter,

where boxcars became brittle and fell apart,

it was here he served god

and those others displaced,

god was an argument for cheap whiskey

and sorry nights,

the others came to him

as in his throat he had words and lyrics

written in his own hand,

his boxcar a place for the dead

those whose limbs had ceased in all exhaustion,

he spoke sermon gave a sense of rapture

then would take each body out

to that solitude for burial,

wind caught and burned faces

heaven a casual component,

the sky a vault

and mountain halls echoing nature,

love had evaded him for so long,

passion cast upon the train

making right for those about,

even in slumber he did not crave

the early life that was chest deep in darkness,

fellow man and a swirl of small favors

cleansed his sanity,

he labored as a persistent mouse

to save the dead from further disgrace,

and hoped his dust would find

the same



blind code of tragedy

o glad spring

natures skin covers all again,

immortals forgotten

books buried in dull folded earth

tender vortice consuming hearts,

there is a thirst for the coming sand,

grass may tremble as it has risen,

flaming rings and streaming darkness

colossal worlds had not seen anything

of this before,

innate crawling at our borders

no day is forever,

spires and battlements no place

for ones such as this,

cold petals of a comets tail

let it pass

nine waves of birth

many wanted it shrouded


scarlet ribs exposed expired,

now here would grow

one of a darker shine is coming

in a place on fifth street

habitat of men’s waste

civilization stiffened,

once before it had been seen

but not born as this had been

limbs without foetal sac extend 

ribs expanded

a new biology that was rapid and sudden

fear came in quarters

with each section of growth,

it knew and would consume voracious and explicit,

time segmented to be lived

as and when it wanted,

those who knew to object

found in a deep lividity,

and there was others born of old natures form

fragile anthropoid womb,

as they rose

as did the hero

figure in fixative of mood and relevance

could he protect against such malevolence,

he was a lure to the failings and complexities

we had once known,

from poulticed womb

sucking on earth drawn nipple,

would live and not yield,

he could not comprehend

that he would see

stark in it’s contrasts a beast to be fallen or understood,

flesh decays for a reason

both he and beast

faced a modernity

that was new and abstract

in a wasteland of succession ,

beast would find it’s way

limbs gave way to wings

stretched on the industrialism and democracy

that came before

fear could be a portent

science a response not a reaction

could not comprehend,

even those who had laws

that pastured and herded

experienced a sight problematic

with their domestication to older gods,

he again the one chosen to slay

as they truly wanted,

two creatures find a companionship

astride ocean’s they left

the tentative threads of old tragedy that existed,

and watch the tilt and slide

on axis of belief and society

fall away to a darkness 

worse than nothing