Sad centipede of gleaming brass grandeur

strange visitor of salad haunts

leering from darkened glass

at the foot of a mountain's milk crate roots

machines humming with madness

stacked flowers and their stalks

the whole scene a banner that is always leaving

I stride the steak-fed conveyor belts

between jagged perfumes

calling to the sacred calendar that's gone

like a soldier fallen far in lilacs

I leave little notes along the ropes

in this gauntlet hangar

hoping the web is soaked

with edible sleep

and the petals are stroked

with a sound of falling embers

in the red part of the pet dark

swamps crowned with high ornate

cathedral space ships

and an arc of file cabinet tombstones

around the articulate scar.