*.*.*.*

of the clock merge at mid
the day increases; as the sun orange-red with white patches
only as a tiny disk dissects lightning
so that you do not fall into the descending streaked with white, both conditions
among the dead, and there to erase like a bridal gown

nature is always the same rocket powerful enough to land a human
a large doll walking his dock, radio noise erupting
one big terminal across another part of the tower
the railroad's private microwave radio network the divine purpose of all things

wind pushes out electrified atoms soft colors of Jupiter
the mirrors, the mirrors--I am only a spectator in this priesthood and soldiering
unknown cosmic rays--one of the angular, with few visible scars, and
with a space-walk laced the continents over many miles, flashing messages

*.*.*.*