A pebble gives birth to a planet

without one final word

carved slabs are sliding

down a wet hill of clay

the crossroads have gone out

beyond the highway

I love the clear night while it lasts

tides of mercury wash my empty flask

of a body, eyes inflated rise

to the mirage of the surface

mountains find mirrors in the sky

like shopping malls of grass

expanded through galactic ruin

the paths of lightyears tarnished

by a flying corpse

cranes lifting chunks of molten keys

beneath its borrowed blood dispersing

walls of brine like bedroom curtains

closing on the sleep of many cycles

fences bending like a beauty's hair

for the end that was not there.