pulling letters from
the boxes of strangers
reading them all
beams from immovable sky orbs
scanning fractured water
embers of swollen islands
bridges flirting with ragged visibility
and the ones I'd known were gone
to the impenetrable hills
bound in fortress pleasures or
cast out to gutter prizes
red threads glittering on sun shocked bones
tresses growing in a music box tomb
whose vaults have hungered
hungered for the fallen ears of God
and the gears of his reactive rod
rented out to rotating burlesque.
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