Will against a window
melts through an arch,
way opens a wave of blood,
circuitry of flowers on a desk
of ice, music burrows through
the marrow of an antenna,
the man who dreams the world
is eating sprigs of sour green
faint light from the chained
vine of a grape, watching
systematic faces impaled
on a galactic pole,
wincing political expressions that die
before their human season passes
rot through the belly of a deep pond,
lick leaves from the fire's surface,
and bow whipped bodies down
to find their sanctums in
a shivering dresser drawer.