Spitting down the ladder

She blinks; the bridge of her nose

is falling, London,

is mourning.

Monday morning smoke

Plumes down the block of her teeth


Construction site; the hat burns yellow

Watch for the birds of a hair.

They scatter.

One explosion

Dust—a sneeze—

The demolition does not touch the next.

(controlled chemical reaction)

Keep it in a beaker.

(the mouth)

Spitting down the ladder

It travels through the sink.

She sings and gurgles

the toothpaste.

Wow...these late night things are really strange. :D