Garlands

In the meantime I’ll prune your elders
with the sharp side of the sea
calculate the bottomfeeders in your feeder
fending for one’s meal when it comes time

Your gate hung with garlands of skulls
& dried curd
outerfields where metal mountains sprung
where I encountered giant lice
& a map of Uranus

When the time comes I’ll come
on a nest of spiders
squeeze a serotonin bubble on my gash
It all depends on how much
I want to be lost
in a den of twisted plasma
spoiling the reserves with my steam

Wrecked on the wheel
swooning for blubber
our world won’t come into being
without the necessary glands
I will staunch the ogre flow
melt mammal reactor’s wick

Concentric signals radio in
to my informant brain
insomnia tatters the lining of time
chaos pictograms
equinox’s bare promise
forgotten heads loll in the road

I light a torch to see yesterday’s
addiction to becoming today
where it went wrong
and why the sore won’t heal