Aught, no. 14 (2005)


Brian Hardie

Stele

Minds wondered what we experienced when the
Demons treasure was brought back to the gate.
The result was mystical alike hanging gardens of Babylon.
Alike a brainwave that was stacked upon mud bricks.
Decorative animals are in relief, projecting a whimpering glazed background,
Giving the illusion of an eight-story spiral.
Taking her reservation for seating upon arrival.
A reconstructed moment, procession delayed on the
Icy black street. I’ve decided to wet your appetite with my own form
Of heat. Mine has been stretched out to function.
A unique Persian history anoints my dinner pail.
I will crawl back, carving deeper in your lung.
I hope your Nile River constraints and does not choke.
More rugged, more rocky; the trails will become the dust above my roots.
To interpret the piece of land that is floating away causes an individual
To become closer. They conceive a melted perspective.
The majority of looking inward is becoming undone, only
One self is vacant. A friend of Osiris.
Closed, then opened, then unwrapped.
Peasants contradicting your clarification.
Wealth with a pinch of salt.
A lifetime of ritualistic pleasures.

 

Eating Raw Bread With A Mammoth

The kitchen floors are covered with my memories.
Like possessions I left behind for friends to endure.
Their reasons unsure to me,
Though perfect legacies for their tough
2 bedrooms.
Oh, those thoughts could burn out
The lamp on those latent, patient fiends.
Springing a concern only to compose a lie.
Animal instinct almost hid the gun.
A models figure saved facts,
To sprout violence on low income.
Vanilla candles wont cure those tattoos.
Only if saving time leads inclination
To thirst for truth.
A seed, symmetrical of walls, dividing planted emotion.
Time lasts the time of losing weight.
Rib cages are puppets for my stomachs stress intake.
Transition needed on my peeling skin.
Wasting another take as I wade my mates in.


Copyright 2005, by the author. All rights reserved.
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