Enveloped in the earthquake of your own making
Using dampened, degenerate driftwood to design
Your foundations are built on figs, faults, the San Andreas
House divided, like your heaven cracking, splitting hairline wide.
You craved coronation ceremonies, the festival of Saint Constantine
Though deserving less, the desecration of altars and unravelled threads of garlands
I'd rather be sacrificed for worshipping Quetzalcoatl, since
You didn't even earn yourself a sidewalk shrine.
The masses were ordered to follow age-old manifestos packaged in corked bottles
Words that covered the calyx of chrysanthemums, wanting to be
Eulogized like previous pharaohs with commandments, edicts
Scrolled parchment embedded in your sarcophagus.
This is vertical poetry, commodities bounded by barriers to exchange
I rejected your uniform, linearized plots, enslavement as the path to enlightenment
Saplings which didn't sprout from the bed of your vegetation
Would slip on soapy bridges, from the foam of your lathered cryptic riddles.
Mine is the diatribe of a kite tightly fastened to totem poles
Your mind's a gray asylum, its paralyzing walls numbed by narcissism
Pregnant soil gave birth to carbon copies, mimeographs of the lives of your ancestors
Now even witnesses can't unweave the mummified tissue of death tightening around you
I cut the umblical cord and flew.
Birth sign: Not entered
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