true cross
by Michael Borth
Rehearse for me how you will remember me
Play for me the tall songs of the solar decade
As I predict the name of the fleeting gas station
As I beg the old magician the wild fires of card
Falling deck of white water and the blur of glyph
And how she finally asked for the romantic synastry
How every comfort grows a quiet and solid addiction
How the leaf beams a frequency and the bed a sleep
Fast-acting karma bundles in mall of Spanish map
History edging toward swastika in cabinet and dust
Lay me in the warm winter room with comic books
Put me among the beautiful women never approached
Another one goes to Málaga, another to Barcelona
What is it about this realm that calls the aspirational
It is the memory of the hope of the light of the empire
So I called us The Trancers, we move like them
The architectural mythology of the vaulted bosque
The proto-computational hallucination in limestone
Cells and falling arc to a vanishing rose of point
Of replicating halo to the dyed quake of primal beast
The tree is a slow fire and the fire is a regenerative tree
Fueled by a past and future self and parallel vascular
It is obvious in the aura of the green light of Honduras
Intersected by the wounds of the martyr, by the mother
Praying silver on the historical hill of the true cross
Cedar, pine, and cypress are the triple tree of Lot
The dream and its language are the original machine
Burning in clean waves the incubator of its genesis
Seducing muscle and mysterious protein to bright energy
A rhythmic palm reading coaxed into map by the fate lines
Photo of Michael Borth
BIO: Michael Borth is the author of The World Dreamer and As I Roam The Life Cycle. Website here: The Coastlands.