Thrown to Probabilistic Winds

Fire like red roots coursing through an earthen black.

Surface level angelics smothering half-burnt ivory

raiments.

An incredulous shift of self-evidence resounds a booming

plague...long lines are drawn by soulless locales of one

or another.

City blocks of light are thawed...what's sprung...fruit to

pit...the heart of prophecy.

Buggered ghouls of yesterday/today/morrow's paper 

mashed at drainage.

The locusts of God's swarming countries go blank in capital.

The soul's diminutive announces names as a sweepstakes...

a triumphal absenteeism unmans limbs.

The moon skips the white of its rock where shores may 

no longer distance themselves...and pedantry thrown to

probabilistic winds.

Konstantinos Mark

Reviews

[.]

"An incredulous shift of self-evidence resounds a booming
plague...long lines are drawn by soulless locales of one
or another."

~ no doubt there is much chaos and anarchy around us, Sire... politically, socially and economically speaking... ~ yet somehow... i feel that just as civilization has crashed... it'll resurrect... or so i think... ~ finally, people will realize that they're heading towards turning into debris and then write themselves some poetic justice... and live it too... hopefully soon...

[.]

~ i was so consumed by the astounding imagery in this piece, Sire... that i forgot to tell you how magnificent and stunning it is...