.....

The spokes of whisker
 the murderer's face
             predictably tender
  slant-cat portraying
           the beauty of air
                           to be felt;


 thump-tail, unwandering eyes
     will flicker soon
                           and contradict
    each self is a ceiling blister
 canopies of daffodil
                       come down
          with the motion
                             of thought
      and the public park splits;


           right down to a canyon
       the dew walks, with mouths
     made of moss, the winding hurt
                of all life in resistance
                                 to oblivion.