It was inheritance
of age
before the mirrors
for the language of windows.
...
Driving green fire
out of melodies.
It was not make-believe
not mannerism
...
You toppled the invisible
burning the unburied buttons
joining the history of names.
...
Among the crania, clouds allowed
a variation of sky. The hominids
stood up and started a stride, with
long steps towards noxious future.
...
The hurt begins to move
and meets in a funeral procession.
For aging fireworks this was the last chance,
...
I was not indifferent to graffiti
but oracle was telling a different story
of embellished arms race
about the mathematics of terror.
...
Rain of victims.
Crossing a parched field
a summer moon was laughing
like a naked lie.
...
A hidden self portrait
in a tar pit
I do not want to explore further.
...
The particulate allegories
were tossed around.
The wheels had refused
to exit.
...