Nuestra Señora de Atocha 


The unknown 
translocates 

wandering asunder
blunders 

as lowering rope 
in fits of defiance

fly and die 
the sky and spy

blood and water 
a nail to mix 

green and hopeless 
for a fix --

Ready ready 
are you ready
for this --
 
A mission of fate
beyond

beyond 
the belly of hate  

beyond 
surface of love 

or mystery 
of mercy --

Only to die 
with hope 

strung
around my neck

cherishing 
the crossbones

bread and circus
thickflowing 

taggers 
and daggers
meticulously jacked.

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