When Claws Dug For Moments
There were giant toads in that time
and small descendants of monsters.
Limbs scuttled and leapt,
Thorns and fangs
began to flower
as winged,
but yet brainless insects
fed through straws in their
bulbous heads.
The glory of the frangipani
arose brightly
in a steaming morass.
Green became a color,
rainbows arched over living volcanoes.
These early times
had not any moments
but only a flood of blood,
a flow and pulse.
A simple deadly song
that lingers on
even unto now.
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