Townships on pedestal wrists
birdhouses toothpicked into flesh
roads crumbling through wicked circulation
yellow roses pressed in bloom
against the wind's world-wide shield,
rattling on the orb of a blood-shot eye,
iris speaking with infant blood mouth,
houses tangled by their snakes
shedding lights on a battered runway,
ears fanning the portal of the end
light crashing down the arc of a frozen wave
toward the desertion of control's ideas
where ten robins tangle over a vast desperate worm
gripping the lawn with two ends of its bisex
guns of wood arrayed around its table of earth
quarries drained an architect's corpse
his arms in the veins of the hills
twitching with a heartless attack
from the powder of his cinnamon blood.