el hombre que fue jueves

staring into wavering meshes
a fire in Crosby
black plume rising across the road

the moth that God made blind

the real world is calling me back
from the show in the limbec

gas pump handles yellow-sheathed
silent masks at the clambake

meat space requests my return
to changed maps to land storm-torn

& no myth has covered it
yet emerged from the black tarn

i woke & looked out the window
& saw i'd been taken to the moon

"It’s like watching a budgie trying to string sentences together." (via Hlavaty on Livejournal)