omni

Scythes, the grasses mow as ruminant
Earth digests ploughshares
In 5 eyed chambers
Of ladders bent over time's barrel,
Ill equipped to quip
Looking worms in their poetic hearts
Using little more
Than silica water hinted into forms
Cereal, ethereal
Is is or will she not sic
her goddess bee
Float over scoured mesa lands,
Harvesting men's infernal dream engines
Casting lugnut motes
Into clock tines of alluvial music