Among sky-kissed tellurian vines,
half lit yellowed leaves grasping the source in vain, walks
me, a mere golem,
tossed together as fruit of the earth,
loins of my father,
breast of my mother,
soulless moving matter, sleep-walk,
intoning the roots.
Truth burns above my brows.
Song of my song,
word of my word,
cants mutely to the calving herds ruminating
chewing the cud’s omnipotent gold.
When beast holds dominion,
Adam mows fields with his teeth,
shorn of heart,
his nostrils flared low inside the earth,
while Lilith shrieks pious,
her vacant urge hung limp like gilt pocket watches
seeping through barren tree limbs.
Ten times ten thousand vowels howl endlessly,
lies whistling through carrion clean picked skulls,
empty as before,
when flesh adorned hollow garments,
animus sans luminous sight–no reason, no right.