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Nerves like cornsilk on fire

A plume of atomic orange

Flames of blueberry stroke

A billion heads collapse and sleep

Earth is a bed

Towels are folded on shelves

A long, lonely highway leads to beautiful isolation

And good lonely, needed lonely

Apricot orchards wear mind caps

Black and white bat machines keep order with their sticks

The pumpkin on the wall asks what is he doing with his life

His answer draws tears, bullets, orange blood and seeds

I Love You notes lie scattered on an old wooden desk inside an old room with old windows where the ancient sun shines through like it has done so for decades. This is a different time in a very familiar voice. The bodies move in; the bodies move out. The sun stays the same, the moon is still white, stars fill the night sky. The city below grows larger. More lights, more noise, more people, more dirt.

Love notes astray in a distant western wind. Hands grasp hearts—in joyful surprise, in swoon, in shock, in death—Love notes wither and turn to dust.

Lonely, sleepy night now

Clock never stops at 13

Peppermint oil in the eye on a cloudless Sunday morning

Rows of chanting church people load their guns

The hate parade is about to commence

Prayer warriors stomp on the throats of the breathless, reckless, and wise

Love falls at every level

In the skyscraper of life