The wind finds its fingers in the sound of the leaves
a whole space to void
The night finds obscurity in rain, the rain finds
all the places to wake you
Cold stones and water in a bucket drank down
boiling rocks and foaming seas
Find me a solid place to stand in this
rubble of psychosis
A bullet and a brain and a piece of violence
extended laterally
A bubble of smiling faces, shining sequins on
freshly caught fish scales