Carving through blind alleys

at the speed of light

setting up a bed

at the waterfall's edge

I become my own failed

handyman, rain tousled

by a curved sword's breezes,

beef knuckles and a cartoon

heartache.

Coming up on a plot

of quartered and floating daisies,

gashing through a rut

it's heyday music

on a purple highway,

beats and rhymes

from the center of the earth

great girth's warning,

it's a soul spooked morning

haybales laid out like marshmallows

in the deadweight of the sun

of old towns I'm gone from

still on my mind

long tooth and claw

uncrowned along the braided night

and propped up like a stone.