In the wild
You are left to consider graffiti disasters
hatched from gypsy palates
Vanished in music through spiders
In a wilderness of orange viral light
Moths push from the lips of willow switch
Geishas who stargaze on
Matrimonial black powder
In our wilderness of birth the
Name of Fire is swallowed by moths
We are reborn in Geisha operas
Over the embers of burned invention
You sign the word for sand
In a lamplight hem
A voice skating chalk
Points over pearl
Its pitch wound in a white
Arched wax arm
Ticking the membrane
In her submerged bell