From an attic I smoked and

watched the town die

I let the strings of sabotaged fog

escape my fingers

watched the glitter of shattered mica

adorn the separating roads

from its mad mother the mountain

quaking caves and beads of dust

struck by the dust light

in the wounded inner dome

of the planetarium

alone in fields of seats slanted back

bones dangled by electrical cords

animated by the restlessness

of rubber skies and windowsills

dripping with hot sugar

fields of broken space and vacated places,

no swimmers now, chairs twisted

on the concrete dock and cracked

raft alone on frost

where the smokers lost keys and danced

and the eggs came in from the water

to be free from mechanical eyes

in the depth's churning

chased across man's pressurized land

and returned to a purple lining

as the multiple queen of wings

and redesigned things

crashes my snoring heart

into a cross-thatched corner

staring over the combed hair

of lawns when the comb is gone

and dawn is the hinge

of some recklessness

flicked the threshold's lips

where a chimney writes

the birds in streams

and even the corpse dreams.