Set a fat layer of fire grazing into the chest of engine heat, breast-
stroking against motion perfuming from the sickness of volt swollen inhalations. Let
this heat sag to a half-eaten meal not its own; let it eat rods,
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I am wholly consumed by this poem. Not being of an angelic nature I sense the malevolence of the machinery man sets in motion here. The hellish heat and unbridled consumption of all that would stand seemingly immovable. The attack is powerful and relentless. The escape route searched for appears organic and natural in contrast to marauding metal threat. But the escape route is still at an unbridgeable distance from anything angelic or heavenly. Nature just is and it doesn't necessarily give a xit about you. Or you or you or you. But together we can form a polis. And engage in politics. In this hellhole we find our selves in.
I don't know which is best, the comment above or the poem itself. Actually the comment did give life to the poem itself for me, after it left me quite indifferent upon first reading.