The wrestlers and the soothsayer

There’s a witness in the ether—
he scrawls esoterica on the skin
of wrestlers in the muck—
all the nudes of antiquity
suffer in his weather—
the squall of children
flitting between the pikes—
a boy blacks an eye
on the marble in the temple—
anguished him, the ogre
of contemplation (eyes
like bowls of black gel
quivering in the socket)
behind and below you—
a scribe on a spree filling
his vessels with antipathy—
anger in the muck, busted
brows and bleeding boys
between hidden him and them—
there’s a witness in the mud—
there’s a smoker in the ochre
cobbling from bodies blood,
rubbing their two sticks together—

~ by Jeremy on June 9, 2013.

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