FLECK STAMPEDE
____________

There's no music playing anywhere tonight.
Some insane silent word clamoring in the background.
Attention severed by planetary movements.
This is how birds begin.

This is how nameless pilgrims die.
With the sign of eternity hammered into our haircuts.
Tentacles home in the sea, bewildered.
Bring me back to the place where a cat's chest fallen
knocks a quarter out of the whole day.

From here we can stare at the star-merge
of extinguished commerce.
Just hold my hand until the waves don't break.
Feel around this well we're in
until the dark stereo comes on.