Tongues in a desert's ring of fire
cool to glass
roots coil around the snails
ruts begin to speak with wet dirt sides
berries cracked on the green snag's fringe.

My helmet's eggshell shard
is a bed for a snake
ribbon's lash for untied vapor
stalk's needle threading woolen vertebrae
the mouth on the steeple
swift movement in high hallways
and the circling bell
froth of the night sky
an electric glaze.

The rock seat nudges
separating parts
fruits bitten by the run of sap
a lunar sledge
latched in a lightweight briefcase
stuck to the ledge.