Belvedere (unrevised)

There is a string,
an entrail that is sprouting
from the gaping mouth.

Burnt umber,
Burnt orange.
Color contextualizes the form.

He is furious with the rapid
twittering movements,
reverberating through.

The end is distant
and essentially unsavory.

Rapidity continues.

It is an unleashing,
binding secretions
of an unknown.

The ponderance is moot.