Picture it when in a flash of a description, brought you the news
  it said was your derelict.

when    in becoming      we   ultimately   fail
   our   being   championed   by   our   unbecoming

seeking   the   real   scathed   by a sizeable   truth
    like a    persimmon    in  your   tender   hand.

                                   This is the default

sketched    over  a sagging   paper, plugged within the air
   the   motes  depart   and  is  as easy  as it is  explained:  an elusive

thing   that may never   be   captured.   Something   the   arriving
    betrays   then assuages     with   a   word   treated benignly:
                         a    transit.

let   gray  define  the  day:       let   the   file    describe   the   motive:
           let    presence    soil     where    we   stood   our   place
            like    a   monument:         let   it   seek   a   real  object
                or  a   found   language

a    wafting   presence     is    lost   somewhere    gliding   over   unnamed   territories
   commencing       a   displacement   said    was    our    undisputable     location

                     roads   becoming   roads     vehicles   becoming   salvage
                  birds   becoming   orchestra      shambles   becoming   complete
                                   thus      dearth    becoming      us   before     our  denied   image
        from    a    source   that      was     our    implacable    place   like  a   deadspot    discovered