High above the thrones of man
a plain socket of air
without glint turns and turns
some manufactured elbow of thought
taking on emptiness and flexing
an everlasting knot.

Thickets carried in green
transparent tidal waves
spill blackberries into our hands
as we swing from the clouds of blood fog
a stony platform gathered.

Colorless plastic doors
bounce dangling springs
on photographic anthems.
The desert moves on
to an apron table
and collapses the cherry wet
wood.  Eyes open over chess
between lines of paint
the defecating airplanes
carved throughout
a whispering terrace.

And the solemn menu
opens up your head
like a duck.