I gather these little tendrils

into a structured storm

with many wide knots

many centers of gravity

pulsing with devilish eyes

and place a throne of red velvet

for you to sit in the strummed valleys

of my monumental web

these vacant headlights

are implanted in the caverns of my chest

beaming to nowhere

and I can't get down from the heights

of a mountain lion's diet

to sit at the tea table

sharing fables with basic bitches

small volleys for the foam of the new

gestating in the end of time

like a mouth of ultraviolet

like a seeded wound

like a tongue lashing to somewhere

chartless and abandoned

this tender vein

in a maze of movable steel

vast as a twilight moon

for accelerated earth

oceans rasping in her girdle

for a thousand robot butlers

setting chairs on the ceiling

one final word.