I am yearning for a web

of silk sprayed bronze,

to be a parrot's brightest feather

aloft in your paranoid tapestry

of liquid error

consumed by wizards of grass,

concrete carved supple as a tongue,

chutes of jeweled

and palatial nerve centers

in their chemical gloss,

glass bright in dilapidated hallways

with a frog's glue of fingertips

disciplining disobedient beauties

with a tender time frayed hand

beset by spiralled rains

and winds with interlocked bands

the curves of a dark born land.