and live in their fragments
I sing the songs of the dead
invisible in the kingdom
of my birth that has defeated me
the pools of souls are empty
bodies are running ragged
on hot lit streets
eyes and teeth of glass
in the puppetry of plastic faces
bumper cars on huge conveyor belts
bronze teeth on a chain
that hangs from a mind that is crying
light's tools are darkened by necessity
painted by the sod that's flung
from torn creation
and the cold transparent wheel
I am among them with my scissors
my cut flowers and my unheard catcalls
ricocheting in the belly of the void
a styrofoam seed in a chute of steel
a wisp of cloud licking
at the temple ceiling
a pack of elaborate cards
left scattered in the cage below.
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