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Artificer

Rating: 3.0
Burning, he walks in the stream of flickering letters, clarinets,
machines throbbing quicker than the heart, lopped-off heads, silk
canvases, and he stops under the sky

and raises toward it his joined clenched fists.

Believers fall on their bellies, they suppose it is a monstrance that
shines,

but those are knuckles, sharp knuckles shine that way, my friends.
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COMMENTS
Mahtab Bangalee 05 July 2020
one day he plants a big load of dynamite and is surprised that afterward everything spouts up in the explosion.......world, now in the crazy movement of superpower; explosion in the breast of humanity is easy work; soldiers and general peoples deaths are hilarious to the hypocrite warrior politicians; future of the world is very cruel in the hands of war monger leaders...poet greatly written this
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Dr Antony Theodore 05 July 2020
He wonders at his brother's skull shaped like an egg, every day he shoves back his black hair from his brow, then one day he plants a big load of dynamite and is surprised that afterward everything spouts up in the explosion. Expressions that goes so deep. tony
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Susan Williams 05 July 2020
Powerful. It is like Picasso using words instead of oil to paint a picture and tell a story and doing so in his painfully [and pain-filled] intense manner. I am awed by his skill and depth..
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Paul Amrod 05 July 2020
For me this is a form of bizarre expressionism which I do enjoy. Very stark images and fascination results.
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Edward Kofi Louis 05 July 2020
Weed-covered tracks! ! Silk and milk, With the muse of the military. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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