Digging for colors?
Earth, what do you seek?
Lost for days, now lower than the animal
The dresses of corpses float like ash divers
Bleaching stones, tuning to the ode “Flight of the Masons” The crowd raves of ancient gifts
Prints solutions on milky flags
Irresistible; thus taken by the mouth
The sweet rust now tears all chapped lips raw Veiled and presented the
Crumpled and collaged like
Supple and smooth
Embedded in letters Patched delusion, portentous camouflage,
Exulting the herd splits,
Glistening from a breaking sweat,
Frolicking quietly now, “as death has been presaged.”

– Frank Balve –