No use to gaze at starving fish and
goats in the sky,
decomposing pants and hats.
Light bulbs drown in the celestial pores,
snowflakes grow in creased paper cups.
Windows sing to deaf vultures dancing
poising on flasks of rum.
Pine needles drown in the celestial pores,
interrupted songs for frozen tumbleweeds
bring armfuls of freedom.
We are small like medieval spaceships.