Whatever comes together | disintegrates, falls apart the skeleton key fits, | unlocks our heart's door. Desire, stormy weather | on a cartographer's chart, wrinkled, it transmits | an unintelligible, mad lore. The key catches the lock | faceted truth, splinters dirty data, overload | bits are entangled, not lost. Progress of the clock | mind strikes, then winters ticking seconds, explode | the play, dis/plays its cost. Words wound the heart | basecamp Sherpa of love jungle justice, swamping | red over red, absent, loose tears pool, drip, a start | the unbidden kind, above the tiger, before chomping | life: marrow or juice? Sight in blind eyes | illusion becomes truth perfect error, knowing | one's body is another's bread reach out, touch skies | blood transfuses into youth lives reborn, growing | feed, burn, then again, dead. Frames on the pictures | no happy, was ever after the past cannot speak | so all are new/old battles. In the face of strictures | hear the freedman's laughter violence is for the weak | born again into new saddles.
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