what mind has eye to garden
          in a field of headrests ?
pulling up the tough weeds
          that manage off embalmers fluid
repainting plastic flowers for strangers families
reciting engraved names that amuse
          such as Clutterbuck and Storm Boyle
warden the valve
          that values the last breath
spike the ground with snorkels
           and thicken the atmosphere
           with mans garbage gases
what relief the earth would feel
           deflated of our bizarre bedding...
could we light them
           like the flames of factories ?