is a different weather.
Sleds clatter against fragrant ice
and scrape down sealed hills.
Rails of conceived light
fired by the lonely car roaring
from a dream of freedom
that was mapped onto a prison conduit.
Drums of water talking
across moss canyons and reshaped straw
harps plucked by an evaporating law
on the stage where lonely whores can caw
a lamb with lion's claws
on the operating table
quite raw for experiment
shackled to the love of manic animals
bejeweled without the succor of luna
floating framed parallelogram bones
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