Oceans bearing deserts

Edited version below

A note found in a motel
bible in an isle region
known for its religious
fervor and local sects
reads thus apparently
as an account of an
entheogenic experience.

It lives near a desert.
No, a shore, never confused
the two before, its rock
for whale, the wash for wind.
The ground burst a minute ago
& beetles walk on veins of gold
though foxes only slow & barnacles
attach to cacti slipping there fro
into the mouths of lizard albinos.
The baking forests bear placid snow
but its animals only a reeking line
of a patchwork of the wild pant
which will know no partied soldier ants
for things not yet simply can’t.
The second day comes,
the mountains at slant
from the patient angle of its hand,
near its hut of ether on glowing land
& it has a face of crackled wind
& a body of distant trailing sin,
its words What shall be the world today?
felled on language come to stay
for things not yet will have their say.

Revisionary notes: Replace “death-crop” with “death-rant” or “death-pant” or “wild pant/rant.”

Original version below

It lives near a desert.
No; a shore; never confused
the two before, its rock
for whale, the wash for wind.
The ground burst a minute ago;
beetles walk on veins of gold;
foxes only slow; then the barnacles
attach to cactii, slipping there fro
into the mouths of lizard albinos.
The forests in Tupelago bear only placid snow;
its animals only a reeking line,
a patchwork of death
which will know no ants.
The second day comes,
the mountains at slant
from the angle of its hand,
near its hut of ether, its glowing land;
it has a face of crackled wind
& a body of distant trailing sin;
its words: What shall be the world today?

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~ by Jeremy on May 28, 2010.

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