I heard the footsteps again, you know who it was.

The fish tank inhabited by a strange artwork.

There was nobody home to explain, we waited.

I remember tampering with the core and the first stage of fission,

a hollow impact orphaned from history.
Polished white concrete and conditioned air.

An atmosphere ecclesiastic. An impossible heat

and futuristic toilet facilities, supine tourists, black rain.

An exit                            the opiate of jargon and the

difference between then and now,
igneous rock like mirror. Nothing to intercept

nothing to the horizon, wastelands of artefact.

A sinister experiment in my underground laboratory.

The jet streams magnesium pink being pulled to the sun.
More colours to the desert,

a calcified giant from dead myth. A daring

and most ingenious project: the curve of the wall from which

an osprey tips. Far below an angel submits to hypothermia.

Voters may form false memories

after seeing

fabricated stories.