By Kit Couter
By Kit Couter

By Kevin Clothier

Unholy order of
scrappers, scrapers,
pickers, pincers.
Eyes of the body,
each one a spokesman
of the flesh’s pilgrimage
into the dark.
Five shorn priests,
naked prophets,
wizened seers,
tapping cosmic tunes
on splintered wood.
Cliff dwelling hermits
probing the musky hollows
of the body.
Breach sealers,
wheat grinders,
bridge builders,
stone cutters,
whistlers in the dark
clingers of straws.
The first one pointing
from out of the shadows
to some place far beyond
the world of things.

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