my grave in the tunnel of a dying sun
set fine in a spectrum of lights
bathes in white salt raining
ditch-born, in a bankruptcy between distances

malfunctions among the stars
watch the sand's veil together linked
eyes pursuing venom lights over
horizon's mantlepiece of scattered incense
hot lights and lips and barn lofts
drunk and dreamless sleeping while the wires think

chirp with currents of the dead
all preyed down to traffic daylight,
stunned by excavated love
in refrigerated outdoors