Underneath
I see a man walking west And I know where he goes
I have dreamt his future steps in a thousand grains of sand, of glass
overflowing the cracked timepiece of death, a double-edged sandcloaked number
that counts them down a piece at a time like some sinister Bingo machine
I see for last by first
the Placental Earth
welcomes his body back
Loam hugs his shoulders and sinks him in his graveclothes
his lips frozen in a photographic time, The expression of an Ambulance
The driver stroked some incidental strings on an old Folk- guitar
the patient in the back died of the remnants of a heart attack Time of Death: Seven Am on a Monday
his body says,
There is too much Morphine
in me, I give up
a body too full of Minty-morphine gives into a rain of crystal hands
Underneath the scalp, ungluing thoughts wallpapered everywhere
A Thousand-Lives Exit a clean room, this tenant is moving away (his apartment is all empty only wires)
A light shatters out of a lighthouse, the crashing Bulb
explodes to simple
opaque glass
dashed upon the rocks
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