over the list of my footprints
I see machine fragments,
long red threads tied
to radiant black arrows,
bones carrying obscure script,
photo book shaking in the robot hands
of this crooked cast-off piano,
tables talking to paper-draped walls,
knobs winding multicolored wires,
plastic sheets of numbers
that were zig zag souls
coalescing in these ragged rolls
moon's laser through a window of iron
glass gone to the tar of bronze
glaze ejected from high strung vapor
raging pine sap past the love of junk
and the maze above.
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