Pools of night's
waiting solitude
vents drinking water
from electric vines

faint turns in vistas
that are always waiting
sun's edge tracking
on a weary path

hunting the reflection that flies
around a humming cone.

The cage that chugs lurking for you
a door of moon caught windows

roadsides leaping with dynamite veins
an orchestra of reaching birches

secrets in the thrashing machine
that roars your name.