Fleeced down throats
Faded pulse traded trance-blind
By lines shot back into the setting Sun.
We barrel over cliffs,
Barren in our dreams of deserts.

Etched sea-stones scratch
the skin of hourglass hands.
Behind our eyes’ frail wonder
Drones an ancient ringing
Which flags
our bone skulls
With flights of arrows.


Arrested compassion-trees
Juice an oily sea .
You are not who you think
You ought to be,
But it’s alright –
Your tumbled-down mirage
Waves in undulating heat,
Searing the plastic
From wired conundrums.
Across terraces of memory
Wound up in tight slow-motion,
And aimed full-on
At the frightened ocean,
As sun spurt rays
Down a smokey windshield
Jar yellow surprise
Newly stirred in a pale
Of mind’s-eyes.



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