Catastrome

the messenger never tells the waterworks
whether to run or not.
consequently,
the heads of state are unable to exert any influence
over the plumbing of the body politic.

flood cascading out of the mountain
dropping from on high a silent passage of white death
pounding down the sand the roar from on high
bringing down everything its reach
the tiger paces the roaring lion
as it walketh about
it seeks to devour its stripes and stalk
but the water enfolds, overwashes
and drives everything away
twisting, blending into the mirage
the sands bite and dance against the skin
grating in like uninvited guests
the longest way around becomes the shortest good intention
and then the

broken sentence intervenes
lost in translation sometimes a sensation
wanders unkissed unmissed through the walls of the inner wash
the dross tossed into the shore rifles sore
bullethole skull
perforated soul
paces the sole of the world
beneath the crowns of angry stone
screaming curses at the clouds
indifferent.