I'm a cartoon wolf on a far wall.
Amplitudes pass me dressing,
undoing the windows,
pushing the lamp's lid up to Saturn
where it cushions like
a sunless photogene
in a smoky lounge.
The microphone is melted into sand.
Long arrays of flowers wilted
under broad leafed paths
decks and their transparent layers
floors flashing with gold pants
and alcoholic blitzes,
none but the one finetuned past ash
and into the spirit
peacock engravings
carried under an orange sky.
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