rays that scythe flourishing
from the hot gold of some infinite bird
piercing orbs encamped in tendrils
bodiless comfort of deep space.
Eyes that swallow pouring mud
bone bridges of a dusty planet
cellos of stone
bowed by entombed
greatness of soul that fucks time.
Girders enwrapped in lilac
where bruised hands take lunch
glass reflecting oils of reproduction
cubbyhole kitchens blinking
like stunned searchlights
naked whispers that exist alone.
The tongue distilled of place
is also an astral highway
bright vaginal leaves bespeak
the names of the American rose.
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