Absurdity of a degenerate guise unable
to read the signs: Nature's coiled like a snake before warnings
of this ominous mound.
Stars don't blink but stare down to a dune
wind-sheared into a spectrum of lethal light, a militant meteorology
of unripe thoughts.
It is the witching hour—
jumps through mechanical hoops, scooping up and topping off megatons
of protore shrouding reservations, Rio
Lethe systematically contaminating suburban lawns
is the color of the soul reflecting boomerang-like rabbit
abalone shells and pendants on long flights of erratic loops, reclaiming