Cathedral

The cathedral was there,
bent in shadow, for show, for
others who had aged in the
spectacular one-upmanship of movie
tonnage; the market had pierced
every gloom-outskirt residing in the plead
regions of cast-aside first times for having
reserved the last before it
would ever have a chance to go near
ticket sales. The lightning strike of what
burnt the skillet, kept secretive maps
of the US, as it was
only a waving of what lay before us – a gigantic
tarantula crawled over the future and plotted
egg-sacs for exploration; together
reconnoitering towards a note-worthy account of saxophone
enthralled situations of squared
butter-dunks of croissant-chocolate; hot
on a postcard staring through concentrated
mac and cheese dawn-light, fresh with

air stubbed in the dark nosed-woman
suddenly protruding from a busy-test of crevice; the
weasel sliding a blade of water across a split oyster-
tongue in search of flinging a pause to a hard spot
in the bin. The top shelf throttled, but
the next attentive key-hole compromised discovery, and
without holding a religious ceremonially in time
the star-scribble of a palmed-promise lied;
belly turned upwards, not even the expert
could read half-smoke glances of refused spokes-
hornet gliding speeches to reflexive trappings;
tender vehemence—it
raced routine demanding stops at the non-
step sting-stun, sudden is:
as if you had slapped wood, a postil-finger
flopped faceless against momentum, an
icicle protruded from pointed-oak
as it shriveled into a knot of oiled
leather, cramping in the
historical bitter of grapefruit malice, revenge
raisins a bile against thither-thicket-thinly
cricket bunched trunks of labeled patched-over cabbage-heads,
heavier than the cathedral—

darker foundations had
deeper holes in their bodies than taking
weight in an afternoon of a newt, cold
with religions alabaster, the stones
carried in such a spine-catacombs the hair of a
paper-strangeness calling mailbox deliveries off
their talisman-venom of soldered power-outages
neutralized to an imaginary
return of the way we found each other, on
the face of a coin, bribed
by the homeward call a projective-stethoscope conjured,
never mentionable
yet recorded in a myriad of custodian records
hanging by a hope
in the hard of hearing hadn’t-deafened, which
closed explosions round folded-closer than soldiers
had encrypted, previous
the

crypt would’ve stolen negotiations, but
in light of recent events, everyone
decided to leave it alone.

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