I feel as if the temples lead to nowhere, <br />Even if the despondent kings are looking up those <br />Stone tits over the hills and estuaries of another bloodthirsty <br />Forest, <br />And I have cut my toes bloody across all of the cleft palates of <br />The rusting though once over eager cars, <br />Now all up on cinder blocks and cypress knees, <br />Being smelled upon by the blooming armpits <br />Of air plants, <br />While their pornographies steep and mold and never find away <br />To dissolve themselves, <br />And down into the headgear of thoroughly evaporated conquistadors, <br />Quilled by the extinct Indians that their luckier cousins <br />Did in: <br />And there in the long stretch of sand dunes where the Australian <br />Pines go lilting like uneasy strangers, <br />The exegesis of sand lions finally finds them out, and they <br />Clean their homes quite exaggerated, <br />But without the need for housewives or the tamed urges <br />For to go leaping through rings of fire.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leaping-through-rings-of-fire/
