Turgid freedom of nondescript energy
moves on the secret circuits of nude gods.
Thy body politic breaks into splinters of million thoughts.
When the dusty winds settle on our faces,
it is a holy bath.
The neutral sky perceives it, lapses into silence.
Poor vision of builders,
carries an abstract frame for the silver screen.
We peer in dark to find the blasts,
culture of giant legs was the essence of truth
descends deep in crevices.
The technique brings the broken images.
In your mind, lies the whole history of a tree.
You don’t remember.
When you peel the moon,
your tongue falters...
Of several centuries, the grief stricken bird recites a poem.
Come beside me, I will tell you the name.