Let the picture lay, sordid, gorgeous: A summer chain of iron rain crushing Four Crows Lake, raw lather of white water driving a mist mad as the beauty of tongue and knife. This morning, a white mare lay dying on the flooded road. Let the picture lay, sordid, gorgeous: The April arc of mortar fall crushing desert hills, swirling spires of dust driving a haze savage as the gift of flame and skin. This morning, a white mare lay dying on Yellow Road. | | Let the picture lay, sordid, gorgeous: A morning squall of marsh rain crushing coconut palm and hibiscus, piercing lyric of cicadas driving a line bitter as the etch of acid and bone. This morning, a white mare lay dying on the jungle road. Let the picture lay, sordid, gorgeous: The nightly smear of tracer shells crushing city towers, laser veils of thermite and circuitry driving a storm scarred as the celebration of reflex and error. This morning, a white mare lay dying on the market road. |