A Ruptured Home
is no flicked lumiere
the pleasures and
vision of those clothed
in night and cleft to chaos
harried by the irregular
but no grip too fast
in duration
that I cannot undonn
my hat
where inside it rains upwards
a hat a home for hair
This is a skeleton of a house
a home truth is unreliable
better the streets
and fields, dots of grass
line of path, fold of hill
sweeping the pavement
with statements
the earth a big wristwatch.
