Freak on a tower of vaseline
stump flower plugging the phone
of a vacant lot
with bright chalk towers
the dotted frames of hot eyes
through shackled and searching structures
that inhibit the moon
hoops and raging poles in cracked tar's
rust of echoes
tires that cross the field
as an empty telescope
scrapes and delivers the frisca
of a million lights
rolling down the dome sides
like a car wash steaming.