Invisible Maps – a poem

The map grows stronger beneath the skin,

Traceries of fire aching dully within marrow,

The stuff on which demons’ hunger is fed,

Blooming traceries that criss-cross along

Lines of the inner defined self, bonding

With the inner worlds of pulsing horror.

*

That realm of macro sonar signals sounding

In rhythm discordant against its source,

Tiny, miniature micro world with so strong

A series of effects, melange blended together,

The whole more than its separate pieces.

*

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