Following jagged footprints
on a dung heap, twiddling antennae,
to find the sun's tractor beam,
the lost features of the moon
and the called of silence
to be filled with minerals
in endless tide, abstractedly
worshiping.  Mouths hung
on the choir's clothesline
of rhythmic existence,
a song of houses blocked by rain,
pizza on rain-tables
napkins peppered by
lipstick grams, pyramids
of eyelids stacked and stacked
to the hot treetops.