Staring into the concentric light of the insect disturbance;
Daring to spot the brain pool
with the random chariot of God,
The worm moans its spotted fate.

Into the cottoned peel of a black orange the small boy peers.

How long must the plastic leg spring into the eye of the grasshopper?
Must the brass be stolen from the nectar of our asteroid?
Dark blue will receive next week's space-pin, effortlessly swallowed by the cool ether of nothing.