Lids batting at the light

of a trashed moon,

yellow paths

on lichen-covered highways,

mushroom cliffs and shrouded pools,

tapestries of bright unbidden worlds

unfurling astral flags

that trick the surge of day

I am found in the far corners

of bathroom mirrors in unknown corridors

a shriek of besieged desire

escaping from the maps

webbed by ashen cathedrals

and gathering rocks for a running leap

over garden walls

my doppelgangers go down in thorns

while I play in the chartless clouds

between hypnotized towns

and the drowning in city wells

beauty's dew on my machine of painted leaves

and her seat of instrumental reeds

with eggs that stare like seeds

the hay made by decayed

undulating hours.