the traffic of worlds
as the bluejay's brain remains
slightly mysterious
as the pyramids of jelly
turn to horizon salt
you will be melting
a hot murmur
without a cage of ink
in the backroom's
camera circle
where the styrofoam cones wail
in the pulse from a portable speaker
so emptily reflecting glass walls
for fake wood limbs that crawl
a vibrating hallway
ten circuits deep
in a one circuit mind
your beauty for the sighted
and the blind
is seeping all through
nooks and crannies of a mountainside
where sleepers roll and divide
rings of earth to your phosphorous torso
your knees of crackling sacrifice
your browns and reds flayed by gray
between the shelves of a future life
kissing air like a knife
fluorescent tubes in obedient rows
tight spaceship boats
on the river of a ceiling
fronds that knelt between bags of flour
silver tongs and the bronze of the hour
as the breathing of torrid hulls
eclipses your monarch spring
and my wolfpack winter
you are the dissenting dawn.
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