.....

    When the bubble casts off
              a god's clump of houses
           and sea graphs turn to hard land
                 under the sadness of the young
               early burning or the icicle
                       stalagmite of pure eyes
                      from the ceiling of oh fuck
                           to the floor of the fathomless


imp's voice depths of book without sugar
           imp's depths of book in a quiet night
             and the big nothing nodding
                        with all teeming it's gathered
                               dynamited channels of determined tar
                           wet alleys dripping a railroad of fire escapes
--heeding curvature, and motionful--neverwavering:
                     taller than hell trees