Dialogue #2

Carving itself, acceding to capture,
the heart with its nebula heals the fanatics.

White hot teeth, razor lips
shred slips of flesh
suck yellow-jackets
from the apple blossom

The dust forms a macrophage, a dark mesh
that makes weapons as blunt as blacktop where it wanders.
Old memories of delighting in marshmallows release
the quieted dead end, throwing quartz ovals.

You've never
fooled me.
And your violence is not hidden.
It shines from you
like sweat on the trees
in the heavy summer dusk.

In the dialectic of laws, speculations and delusions,
pause to taste the pure tones,
the harmonics of wisdom in well of moods,
that temper the unwritten toxic rules.

To check if I deserve the disease or the chatter,
metallic pizza is the perfect test.

(italicized stanzas by Moira Scheuring)
circa 1990