The Flower More
Poem By Mike Farahay
The tree fell and green sounds cracked round to hear
sharp, steel teeth chewing amber grain to pulp-
red, oiled, chain-saws angry screams drown-out MORE. Soft MORES run to shuffle tumbling static-
dry fabric generating energies.
Flesh flies sparks 'tween wooden headboards MORE. Picks swing arcs, shovels scoop, as giant bits
bite black rock so paper wrapped, soft powders,
buried to hole's bottom, can blow it all
to Sodom's end and expose treasure MORE. Without billowing smoke and choking dust,
MORE shiver in the dark and long for MORE. MORE like looking-out to another world
where red corners of mouth with lash are curled. MORE mix 'lectric colors as T.V.s glare.
Hair meanders gently over shoulders.
The silver shuttles roar on plumes of smoke.
MORE muscle broke the grasp of gravity. MORE virgins turn the fertile cheek to deed-
wet raze the seed and bleed the flower MORE.