revival in the engine's catch of arrows
and the spirit's word
a valley of crushed cans
at the feet of a split volcano
glinting with regenerate eyes
where the sap sleeps on granite
and the pillowcase runs with electrode dreams
a diamond studded ribcage
a grin that walks the shops on wires
falling into sheafs of bright grey
plastic corn stalks
sponge mouth
where I dumped the mop water
and walked into a rectangle of light.
No comments:
Post a Comment