Preparations Poem by Leon Moon

As I plan the other blue lung
Of true future luxury
—Eternal in it's breath, by all men sung
—Despite this poem's immensity—
I pause, stopping (by a dead man hung) .

Electrical bow strings torn from lyres
Flicker from the Swan's royal harmony,
Two birds quarrel upon flies burning pyres,
— Nature renews itself for eternity,
— I repose naked in the water's grove, weaving unkown fires.

The bass voluptuosly slaps the basin's edge
While royalty gnaw against their rotten pledge;
Heaps of continents lie still on the shore
While the half-moon whispers to the dirt no more.

Ancient geometry seduces the talcum flesh,
Feathers brood on viridescent fabrics;
Bells and flags flutter upon the mirrors mesh
As I sink behind the mimics of nature's harmonics.

I am beyond this Earth, though with sense
I latch my soul to birth, and drift below sense…