.....

    Before the silent alarm
blooms, and covers me; before
 voluntary clouds shut me up,
        come and visit; be uncertain
        with me about the time,
       help me touch the lights off,
        and shut every voice in its quarters.


    Bring with me the fire of a rug
            spilling onto a melting lawn,
             gravity making hats
                      on the ceiling of a netherworld.
   Tell me in a shifting taxicab
       how the tons above secure your nexus.


      I'm going home to a tree of barn,
        aura shorn of factory tan
          electing the leering masterpieces
              pronouncing the powder of their bones
                        sublimely escorted.