Past the shine of converted stars
over the high inside out
hump backed ditches
and dugout craters
hot grey stairwells ticking
stamped and painted
adrift in the machinery's light.

Plumes and scum touched circuits
flapping streamers that unite
the running and laughing mouths
the tended energy toasted
on a track laid down
keys pipes and whirling strings
stick chairs and electric tables
dry tongues in a basket
accumulating ruined rain.