on orange sherbet wingspans
we'll finally paint to the last day,
the time-fracture we'd been waiting for
in a flock of mobile homes
holding hands that brandish cattail
in the symbol of our fledgling god

man went down to the sea
a vast, velvety filter
in which the lower bones were long
and parallel wings, the unexpected parts
predators cannot easily see the case
of the bright double star