of lanes that shine too brightly to be seen
deep drawers full of teeth
lines tugging at a gelatinous book
as the automatic nonentities take over
as the sun is kept behind a talking shield
I am still fucking with the soil
sheer as storm flogged hail
whipping memorized skin
skull fortresses of nanoactive clay
can take the future
I'll close car doors on all old selves
who habitually watch the timeline
mistaking costumes for pure spirit
crones enslaved by the earth
bathing my concentric grave
in the milk of a tattooed electron
cloaked by cells of a gyrating angel
whose mercy is slick,
whose hips are touching
the grit of air.
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