A
TRAIN WRECK TOOK THE 3RD BEST
MAN I EVER TOOK TO SEE
THE SUNSET OVER OYSTER CREEK'S FAR
LEFT PATCHES THAT AT THE TIME
BECAME INKY IN THOSE FIRST SMALL
DEAD-HAND GRASPS OF NIGHT.

...well ideally there's a yard of patch-
worked grass and shredded matress mats,
russian lit books and organ donors;
but momma's been gettin fat and can't
leave home without her MAD MACHINES.

the remnants park out back and come in
sparks under winged half-degrees
in brittle measure under
CELESTIAL COVERS
courts understanding active curves
FELT THEN GONE AGAIN FINISHED