Once in a dream of wider skies

I knew hills of needles

long dry from trees that were gone

and cones without seeds that crackled

with vibration of the last faint music

in the shade of a crooked concrete tower

escaped from the series of seismic ripples

my love and her electric memories

undressing on the sands above buried sidewalks

told me to rewind the lost tape and laughed

let's fly above the string where we sang

above the land of unprinted wars

where there is no flying

let's ride the burn of one

more fast eroding pattern

come drink the mist as if it was mosaic

unblast the desolate art of desolate hands.