.....

I remember the onion-darkened sunlight
A torn map carving paths for the dead
Our circuitry shelved in a blue heron
Serving the sky's arc every day
Rubber tar underfoot in a maze
Where a section of graffiti coils and opens
Thriving in black dust
Through the messages of childblood
As the abattoir sings celebration of its victims
We are benches in an empty greenhouse
Out in a gravel clearing with a drum
Taking from the core's fabric
This litany of managed expansion
From a sprung zero