Motionless CultureA Poem by Hunter MuirheadDaybreak dews over blemished tiles Like a teardrop of sweltered sweat over my pores I wheel above the floor With spores and a fruiting body The sun inflames into columns of gruesome fields of musk Recovering tickets, tracks, and trains Possessing the same motionless white fervor Then dispersing with unnerving sporadic intensity There I pass through the absurd complexity of humanity Seeping into the pungent taste of verdigris copper In closely layered filaments of asexual reproduction Like the heavy breath of red light musk I hear the whimpers of flocks that harvested brass And limpid barren marble lands of split salt sands In the sorrowful void of dejected terrestrial wonders Rises full marines of robust bloodless mosses Which render unnatural rocks unto organic bliss Without the troublesome thoughts of cultural stresses Everything is calm under the artist’s truffle Until twilight Which wavers under the cast of a pinned beetle’s coffin At the open mouth of the deceased apathetic station © 2016 Hunter Muirhead |
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