Like Jacob arriving into 

the orange town of

Pineal we fight 

bright shadows on altars 

of heart, bones 

 

and crows break the paralysis 

of knowing without mind so many

thoughts form a nation 

within themselves        sovereign

defenceless 

 

there is no sound save

that of cracking ribs and snapped

skulls as a new day floods 

insubstant on chaos-forms

We morph and struggle 

but we never truly fully

become Old Israel

in the morning