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author: gus iversen

Bible Pixel

An epidemic is distilling the rivers
Bleaching the spirits in the forest
Ironing the island geometrically

Faith is in the details
Memorization has suffered
And it has found the flag

Have you ever smelled a statistic?
They smell like brand new flower pots
Have you ever looked at one
With a magnifying glass?
It's like inheriting a pile of magazines

The irrefutable has consumed
Enough castor oil
To swallow the earth itself

Hunkering in the sky
Truer than the tunnels
In a trumpet

Leaving home in body only
To spar this information
Like the hyperactive altar-boy
Sword-fighting with his crucifix



Documentary Film Maker

In the center of an orb
There is a tree that glows
Hundreds of thin smokes curl
From it like the lines
In an illustration of age
Through an overturned pasta strainer

There is a distracting yellow tree
Breathing on the cloak of human roar
Ringtones sway through branches

I'm a little out of place here
There's nothing unusual about that
All of these people are
Looking right through me
At a glowing yellow tree