let me tell you about beauty.

mere aesthetics ring true for humankind.
a weeping willow, a babbling brook,
a cool breeze on a hot summer day
and starlight, in all its mimicry.

but let me tell you about
this new kind of beauty.
it stems from the ugliness and rage
of mankind;
it rises from the ashes of
fallen towers, burnt bodies,
and billows in the air,
curlicues.

let me tell you about this
new kind of world. it longs
to collapse, it strains
beneath the weight of our dirt,
our grit, our grinding and glean.

but let me show you this domain.
shatters of broken glass glint
beneath a setting sun.
the blood of a mangled soldier runs,
branchlike, inklike, becoming
copper underground,
and plumes of lifted dust spread upward
from a throbbing Area 54
to a pulsing, blue atmosphere.

let me tell you about beauty.
it runs deeper than our branches,
than our rivers, snakes, and trees.
it is the backbone of hypostasis:
intangible cartilidge,
heavy gleam.

like atoms, redispersing,
adapting to new change,
beauty will find itself anew,
regardless of our rage.





bronnie


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