ayaladn

smallest of

rapid rail

long legs

in wetlands,

feral as

cat tails,

spatterware

campfires,

the embers

of October,

& jackfish

moodily blue

in a bay moon

& envelop

as kist

treasuries

in gilt

remembrance

our freedom

some of us know

there are zombies

in the stratosphere,

re-animate microbes,

kicked-ups of dust

& amok volcanoes,

our tear-down debris

& displaced urbanity,

sum of our wars,

the frictive race

of cattle-cars

& wide highways,

so the book reads,

despite gravity

what time awing

as zombistrat

recombinants,

‘tho new-mooned

column’d flotillas

freefall all that

as stratozombs,

what use then

our bulldozers

the hum in

front of

core text,

too early

I tell ya

maulin’ up

marl & clay

for a mall

in a crowd,

I’m losin’ you,

only to find

a model

of the alamo,

‘tho all I

look to

a lone star,

for 3 hours,

my car…

this year’s

I think

I’ll tell

a head

of time

not a

macular

general

with an

eye patch

already

in locus

studio