A platform of wrath from undersea,
the spilling claws and high-piled body shells,
lips stained together on a crying rock,
quartz mashed in granite eyes riding a flagpole
with no rope, on the prison shore
blooming with hyacinth chains,
long planks of men's faces and imaginary bars
gathered into a pile burned
down to an arm-breaking
paperweight.

Scales on the sky that have dragged
their dots and lines over the cum-stuck sand
to be draped in limousine gardens
where the guests lie stacked in uniforms,
greeting the under sky,
the stone's lid, the writing hammer
and the long sharp leaves of a shadow
without permission.

Blood-thick fingers stirring
in an upside-down glass.
Heavy heads breaking ornate necks.
Corridors that the stomach knows
in their numbered depth.

Sinkholes of rainbow gasoline
giving way to ink hearts,
a treeline sprinkled
with bottle caps and eyelashes,
the water punched and smoked
re-poured and poisoned
ultimately flowing over.