
The masses believe
a popular history;
cheap, realistic.

The masses believe
a popular history;
cheap, realistic.

Reflecting the world,
as glaring at a mirror,
high, on an airplane.

Slashing through dark clouds,
as an alien spaceship,
emblazons earth, sun.

Every heave matters;
no chariots to heaven—
backpacker pathway.

Like moaning witches
with stretching skin, dragging robes,
sea beds, years later.