I angered dust and robots

Wore lockets with dead friends' hair

Growing like waves or smoke

In the fabric house

The train hops towards sorcery

And the fake Fatherland

Spills flies and totems

Hauls BrockStars by Teeth

Moulds abstract CHRIST

As sweet as jasmine

I saw the ink spread

Over the bed the faces mark masks

And hook down comet trails

Whilst the tombs of great trees

Open again for me and thee