vision of a skeletal shoreline, pendulums and fulcrums of time, o gossamer apparitions
appeared to me in midnights and black deceased winds, the shuddering lost deeds of mine, vacant howling of chest cavities
we don't struggle, no, or strain our golden marrow in celestial outstretchings
a holy war for future texts, unfolding maps, the unfurling of royal banners
leaving the greyest travels behind, raw land sewn together
paper-thin angels and the great yellow stars,
a vicarious lithography of simulacrum eyes,
secondhand ghost revisions with an underbelly of false commissions
and it hums like ancient grey dawns, vexed shorelines and synapses
and it swells and contracts like untapped veins and atlantics
there is no calculation, no clockwork
swallowed whole in smouldering chemical twilights
tangled stars and the world fades to clavicle white
in grace and showering signals, sparks
in permanence, heat death
handed over to no use
there is none of this nothing
alone and asleep
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