As she rode my cream guitar
the chopped off trunks blew sparks
a valley swerved to blinking liquid
pedals chirping in the grey skeleton of green
cupping bricks and pigeon feathers
dented purple backyards
and heated tunnels.

Strapped on walls of cloth
and transparent towers
pillars of fur and painted nipples
bicycle wheels scrolling
through trampled print.

Pink cells of mute explanation
a silk microscope lays under
one barnacle chain
on the roaring wood.