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To Luke Buckham's previous piecerun deep brown puddles accumulated overnight and were well stocked by moonlight with golden spoons & robot fish i see a pile of well-dressed bodies in the clearing of silver light or maybe just a pile of sticks my eyelids have turned to floral rugs filled with hard red arabesques and invasive tastebuds that clump of trees walking toward me looks like a thatch of greying pubic hair my sweat drips off the bottom of the veined green leaves sounds of electronic tribal drums brings me to my knees i stumble through a road of bottomless potholes lined with burning mailboxes & fall through the mist of a smaller neighborhood sky into a planetarium filled with squirrels eating microwave popcorn the seats were too small for me to sit so i ran but someone fastened a necktie portraying jesus as a sniper to my neck before i left emerging from a hallway of framed beehives i saw pornography projected playing fast-forwarded on the green street signs nobody was trying to make love so i'm hiding in a dumpster alone eating pie crusts & concentrating on becoming asexual nobody is whispering anything dawn broke me lunch ate me the late movie ran past me.
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