Tarmac dreams of wheels
  
        spinning round a pine tree

Roadside buzzards pick the skin
      from the city and my eyes
                        
                       are burnt again

Every eagle has a hidden feather
                  and every fallacy a
                            hidden truth
                            
                           skin deep

and we beg the totem not
                           to show it

Flowers burst in the sun
exploding with dynamite
                               determination

They speak on swollen tongues

and my eyes are burnt again