the mansions on ridgemont
are monuments to sleep
your shoulders should not hang down from your spine
but should like wings
technocastle court
city machine womb
in the corridor of moons the trees are my buildings
and the birds my "Glass of Cool Wine"
only reversed so that
the manimals on ridgemont
dozen in munificence are dozing
and the city is a lion in a suit
of techno gear, the signs are advertisements
for right here
the technocastles on ridgemont
are monuments & hearings
where roadkill rise and play marionette with human skeletons
but the city of the jazzband ocean
growing as the metal coils and cools
and coursing with the chemicals we use
them anthills on ridgemont
with courtyards beautiful as spools
they must have noticed
here the foxes and the plaster
fused together
have become museums
and the jazzband lantern to the street
(somewhere
some other side of planet
where live people walk)
chimes and coincides
the blades of grass cast shadows where the crickets
are those people
two animals a manimal and
a womanimal
implanted voices in each other
with chips to hear themselves together
then had to change their chips
to hear each other only in a certain tone of voice
the bag of names the forest lamps
the bluegreen stone ground by shade of half the supernovae
in a graveyard to the homeless
