The moth with newspaper wings sat under the arrow lungs of the eyeless blood dripped falcon, more whole than the super-glued roman sculpture.
Next door a 50’s con held up church with a roulette table in the kitchen, and boarded up the massage parlor downstairs.
The eye of the man was a centrifuge of ducks, mallard and hen, spiraling outward into evaporated roach-ground asphalt.
Next door, slits in the picket fence displayed perfectly formed **** & broach, empty shoes made of feet below, blending fields.
The marble foundation formed from twine lollipops and fuzzy candy tabs, ice-etched to the frequency of splintered seashell angels.
Next door through the forest of knives a spaceship bearing gargoyles peaked bodies through collages of faces in technicolor sepia mitosis.
The heiress molted into tiled pieces, her own dog and sunhat caught in blizzard cuneiform, kaliedescoping again to fractalled inchworms cemented in motion.