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Circuits of drained time
toward a basement lovenest
the bottles rattle and the smokewebs
tremble and thin
our mattress is the glove of the gods

This early morning you bleared at me
that you wanted to live
in the fire of life as most live
in the fire of death
or something like that
then you got my blood ready
for the morning's recoil
by threading me through
the diamond that's empty when it's full
when it's empty

The cars of the partiers on the lot
are conch shells where our ears don't swim
we've got a tented canoe
where a radio runs on acid
we walk on impenetrable blueberries
push them with infant hands
onto our nuclear teeth
where the savior of the world
is doing push-ups on a grindstone
fallen side to the floor of a tomb

Runnels of filth green water
from beyond nature into nature
we examine our oars corroded hands
plummet through spaceless gardens
the pods of peas pecking
and latching on our fingers

The lake's lifted like an iceberg
tractor beam sparking high
belly of the ship turned over
the whole lake spills
the oceans show their nervousness
in our looks, we brush the nuke fur away
with twig birch and mentha, tongue-kiss
to melt our expressions
the oceans tilt and lift
in an unfamiliar manner
we break through the living tissue of movies
and master a screen deeper
in the waxworks of rapidly moving things.