twisted stone
towers
arch like
broken backs
across a
brown-green sky

they are
monumental recognitions
of my tired,
worn,
long
nights
of waiting for the sun

the river runs red

while through the window
acrid smoke
spews and leeks
from hunks
of twisted steel
leering,
smirking
with 12 watt
halogen eyes
and burnt rubber
legs

yet i see
past

for even
when the
white horse
rides the earth
and the
beast lifts
its seven heads to roar
even then
when all seems lost

the shine of the sun
will still
grace all edges
of the earth