The Golden Door by Merrimack
Eyes watching in contemplation
Eyes watching eyes with hunger
Eyes watching eyes watching in obscene vertigo
Eyes watching eyes watching eyes in the alcoves of the
golden door, to which incongruous burning dreams have
designed the way and the need. Behind the golden door is
a land of storms, raging, clammy and feverish and its
lightnings pierce the broken eggs of your eyes.
Sacrificing to the religion of treachery and betrayal,
the broken eyes slip in wet cavities, entering tunnels to
the dark homes thereunder. In exaltation or in necessity,
the rapes of the night carve their way through the burden
of the tasteless standards of castration, feeding the
rage inside, urging to enter the kingdom of
transgression, its divine wildness, celebrating the
|
