an old writer and his words

Deep in the valley of memoryon the altar of Areswe sacrifice them, always youngeach generation we areAbraham unrestrained,the pardon always moments late.We are Olmecs, relying noton the sun’s passagebut on a mainspring tightly wound.Our gods hunger and mustbe sated lest we lose favorand their image change. In our boneyardpriests and victimsslowly decomposefade into earthwashed deepby…