Chris Moran


OPERATIONAL PLANE


A disembodied flame is spoken through a filter to siphon the galactic synchronization beam.
Auxiliary slave to dark energies rampant in the techno sphere. Digitized atmosphere.
The air is aflame. A feeler wave. Obsequious feeling with something dead in store.
Life in the rainbow sphere and what’s there and here. Reciting arias and monodies
Of a malcontent. Reticulan beam. Dissolution of common elements and the lack of heaven
In all. The transference of a common good. Gaze at the spheres in sobriety. Infinity’s
Slower to capture than the day. The eye of the mind gazes on light shining
From a dead star. Galactic interlocutor.


PLANETARY LOGOS


Torrents and gradients overrun the disease. Gazing at galaxies and black holes.
Lambent caesuras scattered back through days of future past. A truth scepter & the
Everlasting spun from a mesh. The mesh is a diamond root. Intergalactic vagrancy so last
Year and clear, suspended like a glass nightmare. Echo splendor webs. In this distance
Imagining some violent quality, like that of a substance fluttering. Air that bereaves.
An orgy of transparency trenched in milk white sand evaporate blood ore. Some
Miscellaneous lives. The atonal strain of living in such an immense tapestry. Vortices
Encircling a surrounding doom. Unshakeable aura.



Chris Moran lives in Salt Lake City. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in LIES/ISLE, Pear Noir!, elimae, Radioactive Moat, New Wave Vomit and elsewhere.
 
 
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