An Abyss Might Open

CLICKs—string section turns from bow, to tapping out our intuition:
TONIC will never sound this work’s last note.
SUITE races to conclusion: one vast, deep, discordant
TOCSIN. The building vibrates, an abyss might open.

Grow My Hope

CHIEF end easily submerged, thrown to margin amidst
SWIRL, the bruising pace of sense’s inflow, reel of world and me.
SHUSH, frantic welter of accidents and trespass!
OUTDO them, Salvator Mundi, grow my hope.

Variable words

AUDIO, medium ferrying truth and saving knowledge,
LUCID words arriving, welling up to transform the arid self–yet medium also of
SLIME, or
MAGMA–not for redemption, but to trap a soul and burn joy to cinders.

Not all of Gaul

MODEL Gallic village de la résistance,
DRUID gathering their independence with his sickle,
TERSE command: Drink up and whomp the Romans!
UNFIT are they to take our menhirs and way of life.

Treasure and Repeats

TORCH, flickering light in grotto’s cavern,
TROVE, dug for in such light,
WRACK, ship’s end it was that buried trove,
“SPOON” <— you’re hard on poems, take a break from Quordle!

Bathyclastic!

CONCH activated—yogurt cup hotline straight to Poseidon:
CHASE Kraken 11 and the purloined trident!
CROWD gathers at deep sonar in Woods Hole:
THRUM augurs bathyclastic tempest’s birth.