Apples hang low their fat hearts.

The lizard is an autonomous tongue

champ of crevices, arrow reacher

she brings to light

and then to shadow

                                        the false

                                        jewel fools

                                        gold

and ruby green, and emerald red
he grabs, he extends his legs in prayer.

He kneels and springs.  Abandon

                                        tourists

                                        trailing

                                        an underworld

of calcites massed to imperfection

pilloried in gothic vaults and too fast
they drive through vacancy sculpted

by lights and the red electricity

                                        of the dead

                                        void and

                                        imperm-

                                        anent

misplacing the orifices,

mistaking for humanity

what never bends into speech:
take the extension of the grass

hopper, kneading a plot rammed

into chopped sleepers, stag

horns on warring       tribes

                                        scarabs

                                        squealing

infant bats and the zip alarms

its human food.
Turn on the light to keep

the sky warm and the moon made of wishes

in any language scratches

                                        on the infant

                                        face

and ankle move downward each day,

their fast health shows the direction

                                        skin grows

                                        and water pushes

relentlessly through the foundations

like peace through a pastoral

settlement whose rim is painted

                                        by a train pulling

                                        its western sledge

                                        of noise.