Roads torn through the human form
accessories abandoned, aisles colored
with smog and vegetable light,
frame shined in its unmultiplied self,
ready for the bulb scan,
that goes into the bicycle
criss-crossed garden.

Chewed sky and thrown-up clouds
constellations dripping with smashed scaffolding
fronds longer than the continental mouth
blossoming over the head lamp
shadowing shields of glass and after-party kissers
meters ticking in deep and shallow lots.

Shutters whacked by released rain,
eyes harnessed to the horizon rip,
rudder taped to the unseeing stem
that runs and makes his many opponents.