in a house of ice
trembling at the blades
of electrode rays
that come through the floorboards
casting all my dreams
upon the wall
taking me to ships
that cross the caverns of the earth
the soul speaks in old books
lost in the rhythm
of a classic record
all the tombs are turned inside out
a voice flies up like a flag
above the colored waves of sand
above the sheets of metallic paint
the ghost of my bones is in
these harvested hills
nestled in their question mark green
around their wearying waters
what flourish do we bring
to the dance floor of all erased rails
black lights on a blood blue door.
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