sing for those in bodies who are trapped alone
telephone heads
alwaysringing
surrounded
by those who can't seem to see
your reptilian tongues of beauty
snickering quietly as you strut
across linoleum oceans
awaiting a kitchen counter on the other side
where someone with pie ejaculates kisses
so calm

telephone trunks in the deepest
pines pinning sky to a cloud
our backs can't see while we stare
through slug trails of mucus
on freshly fallen green leaves
at another half-transparent earth
through this earth through this earth
the bending ecstasy of roads
the dirt derailed there
under the tunnels and paths

sing in a body for those who are alone
trapped hard between bodies who can't hear a music
in their smashed branches
laying upwards and awake
in a whirlwind of hot summer snow