Squirrel feet on harpsichord keys
rivers on tap through electric mouths
the whoosh cube of long empty space
letting off circuits of bronze hair
to the gashes of planet green
violet runs in the sex network of atmosphere
quirking age through a lens of unsacred light
phones of foam thud on dark ears
spilling suds of skin to parched air
trees bathed in their own apple heaps
droids linking ink hands over the rhubarb patch
spastic fences rolling up into cones
drilling wood and wire through earth and oil
reluctant fabrics bleeding through the blossom'd void
on the tin skyscraper's diving board.