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I grip the thick stem of a broken hyacinth
propeller leaves rain, drop punched-in hours
down a chute that gurgles into the river
look at both paws and wonder
how well they know each other
feed like a squirrel, let the roofs
that shield from lightning saucer away,
watch coughing bicyclists
and swimmers who would be naked
in a clash with laws ancestors wrote
in sobriety, until their parchments made them drunk
guns sculpted from trees splinter pick at the  early stars
cartridges fall in the grass

There is a glamour girl gathering garbage
and many children born to throw
boogie boards against the art's tide
of a mushroom cloud
I had a shopping cart coated with lichens
and a tent that ate the dew
'til I pushed one into the other,
they enwrapped and faded

Another cargo on factory water,
things that the moon appears to knock down
and leave lying around,
and a healer's hand beaded with oil
that will never dry, an action movie
in the realm of a snow glass bulb
the mulch speaks thrusts of pitchfork
and a scythe spins in suspension
over lime-powdered fields
where many invertebrate cousins go to lie down,
a crumbled church is an other world's mailbox,
and the mating of foxes in ferns
ties hairs together on the back of my neck:

water forms a dollar sign, sex is food for plastic,
the abyss wears tender caverns
in its descent, and I wear it like a shawl,
it made a twin once
from my wanderlust imprisoned
but I laid him on cold wet cinders
and the gulls painted him there
I took a nightstick to his spirit
was a cloud of gnats
the berry that dropped from his stem
learned to clap leather and never speak
a void in windchimes, a windless world in female eyes
past the paths where computer melts chainmail
and we go to the ice-caps piping.

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