The twinkling of death's world
from an airplane.
Sidewalk lives that never leave
their burning strip.
Museums of murdered peacocks
dripping red wine from
their torn flanks.
Rib cage of essence that lives
at an expense.
The void from silence opens an
ellipse, and then another, in the
greenhouse bath of ether.
What follows uncertain dancers
is a 360 eyeball on stilts,
mugging its pocked earth
verbatim.
Sills sit on glass under
broken mounds, hitched pipes,
digitized windows winking back
at a deep valley of pine.