The shadow flings clothes
through wandering drawers
sliding in and out of incense
alive on canned ham
and blinking gasoline
shining the ice that stands
letting the leaves turn to green fog
and the hurrying waters
to silver veins
the upturned spectator
extending wind sock arms
sleek roving cloth wheels
a gleaming dish of growing cranium.

Joints and manacles
tucked into ruddy wings
the pool of lubrication
multiplying far.