Misstep
a tote of ants
swells over the desert flesh.
jags of shredded wing and torn ort
vain as crowns.
eons have trained them
into a chain gang of riots,
lent them the surety
of a frenzied magnetic field.
one lack-of-mind
ignores all concept.
one heart diffusive
in arteries of branching lust.
the ants have eaten the eyes
of a bricolage of fallen creatures,
have taken the lessons
back to the gulch --
that time-twisting oracle
of mangled strata,
that great original unforgiving
insatiable bowel.
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