humans on hills won't climb
to the top of any quik-mart
billboard no matter how hard you try
to promote the damned thing

better left
off
clefs

trance beats
solo threads

garden door
the gate
is
locked

purple bed of
conscious riding
two-winged bikes
over thick black fire

jesus, mister
dragon, mister big bad scary
smoking caveman
silk hold

you'll have to change the bed
in your lair
once the bridges are sanded
and soft sprounts
drift up as god's ghost
from the rubble