Sleet on the high peaks' canyon'd rock,
duels with mossy sticks and leafy gun-shapes,
features sanded with salt, glass cut to fit
the edge of the fire-pit,
a melted slide on the ribs
made crooked to smile a trash can mouth
down technicolor taste buds a long wood's shine
scorched by glove-handled wells
the snowbank gut rot catcher
rhythms with long tracers
and plastered streamers
from the mountain's blood.