Belief as Kinetic Sculpture by Mark Daniel Milbocker

the blue man wanders
amid the pinkly dripping and gaping of paradox
brandishing the lull of german silver trumpets
to obscure the sensation of slight of hand
or that bronze obtuseness that is so ponderingly cast
yet we dance naked round the refulgences begging
for transport by a scrupulous giant bent over
even though the runes speak plainly enough to 
quench the murmuring monologue of a chartreuse moron
with a tautly tessellated underbelly rolled skyward
so the vigil begins
a selfmade cog grinding its devotions into the prisonwall
the unbendability of its tine keeps the machine ahover
waiting for the conjunction of lost orbits spiraling
turning eccentrically outward into cooling dissipations
no atmosphere for conversation or hesitation
to catch the fading cliff or reclimb its hallowed steps
and confess the bias of arguments long won by
twisted tonsures tangling the truth just enough
or with effusive offerings of humility uncovered
the telephone rings with answers unsolicited
every surface glittering with irony's sulfur gleam
and we all say Amen and leave our tithe under the door