To metabolize my death
I need mythologies.
Raw carrot will not do it on its own.
A melded marble,
Precedent with pronouncements,
Would be more of a wing guide.
The hollowness of the wind should speak to me,
The sea preach.
The elephants of midnight
Discourse with the rhythms of my heart.
I need something harsher than handkerchiefs.
An Aztec, a pyramid, a wedge.
But I am nowhere near there, yet.
I am still marooned at the soft chocolate level,
Technogeeking nerdly with computer,
The mammoth ice plains,
The cooling meteorite,
The brown of the broken skull that speaks,
Are not yet even so much as their own impostures.