Peeled down to the raw slime of man
with the egg's teeth on me,
with bridges open to me
long trees helicoptered by heartbeats
tuned to a toasted timer
with long hair wires
with cinnamon baptized in sesame oil,
sun's behind a pan stuck to the window
gardens are teeming basil and asparagus arms,
dull wood shrunken is shined wood,
vines in the blood are working ceilings,
levels of cracked trash concrete light
working dens behind them.