I've been far out on the waves of oblivion

I saw the glitter trickle through the storm.

Flow to me slower, meet me with smoke

at the rotten couch onshore.

Let the trees creak like a faint

protracted snore.

Platforms of dusk

each lit with a copse

linked by mercurial vines

hot ghosts of the telephone past.

I take my roads with me.

My dream of earth is raging in a spire.

Ditches flick by between hills

each holding an undulant light.

There are no weapons here.

Just artifacts of a dreamless past,

dawn's cup on smoldering hinges

that cannot be clasped.

Cracked diamonds are the latest laugh

bulbed screens project them outward

billboard sentience invading somber souls

the shelf life of these sacred holes.