Blood Cities by Jonathan Beale

There is no past here,

only a constant ‘ever’

and only and an eternal present.

They are cemented in blood and blood

The masculine sword wielding

Struck in the blurring of bloods.

She was born and lives outside

of history’s thin vein.

In her own private universe of a sticky

past caught among the olive oiled redeeming light.

The artist understands

the city paths, in their red bloodied rich lives.

Only the pauper or poet can see through.

Here, some two vast covenants

are married under one roof

of the Copernican sky.

They are now drowned in youth’s desire

for beauty, and in beauties desire.

This consumes all.

The primary element, is as life starts;

is seeking the first fruit before the sunset.


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