The sky resembles something
with something behind it.
That’s the fascination
of the snowglobe
I net the snow the fence the bean-tree wall
And to remove myself from scene
I flew outside sky.
To re-enact the effort of my thought
I left the house
and retroactive slammed transcendence
A disintegrate pocket of memory
grew from a braided mess
rooted in curious warrenings
and sent halloos.
Trying to walk out of there. You can’t.
Entirely inward, I
between my memories.
Bombed out a house or hut.
And I alone escaped
and did a thing again
covered a dark patch on my face with cream
I was grown again out of my eyes
in skin, and covered up the past
God presided president and replaced god
and in my skin I humbled and rebelled.
I am a glamorous blistering garment
and poisoned the strong world.
On the rooftop 5 hilly gardens of moss
and what among the brown
a furor hid secret from me.
My name is following.