Wikipedia Poem, No. 296

      down 
at 
the oracle the 
razored 
whispers
  hiss
      step off 
        you 
got sounds 
of snow-station returns flash 
        themself
  new
why is it only why
glides that quiver 
the hall lifting
to  
a full 
roar of 
hurt
he opens hurt
      away
          brined again

new operations
smile
  his sense of leaves 
look there

exterior rooftop 
        morpheus
on a swaying scaffold
        hit it forcing 
seems 
     as
        an 
explosive-tipped 
rule of calm

the priestess cracks
outside him carpenters  
electrically watched wheat
brined
   is every station a phone up