Let the gray light fill the room
and paint the corners with waking sleep.
Let the birds gather around
seed-stirred puddles, let the mysterious
chemicals of life rise from around metallic roots,
zones beneath neon giving birth to painted fruit.
May the morning without alarm
bloom over smoky balconies
in the river of a new bohemia,
even in lanes of glass gliding
past my staring eyes in stasis
we do this in remembrance of battered maps
improved with intricate bundles
of ink that the divine fumbled
and gave back to dark matter waterfall
words like limbs are signaling
tongue's heat to the silent veil
nine planets in the path of a snail.
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