My eye, my eye, is an orange cage, glowing, grated,
crated into walls gnarled to a blood red core
in thrusts of flayed razor curled edges, serrated,
like red tipped needles, stapled and
pinned to the inside of the lens, incarcerated,
my sight spears the photon war, while watching,
it crumples this black earth,
into blistering birth.
A mess of blood, a flood, a neuron flare
a sunlit, panoptical revision of Voltaire.
This sunlit massacre of the senses,
this heart, this core of a sunrise scattered,
this arterial beam, this red light quartered,
skeletising trees, this dawn, a crimson blade
slaughtering sensations, a detonating fusillade,
as the atmosphere condenses.
The Cherwell a simmering copper cauldron
a photonic churn of water, a turn, a hadron
mist hissing silently has spoken.
Yet still the many layered sky holds sway,
as a summer flight of echoes trails away.
Like arrows from a candle bird, like the slicing
of amber fruit, the swallow’s wing beats splicing,
a single eyelid open.