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Slumber’s crashing visions, green-
go-under, Past’s collisions. Where,
I, sleepily, bump — broken, sev-
ered. Detachment, he comes, speedily.
Avoids, picking up, my limely, shrapnel pie-
ces. He unputs me, bilious, back together.

Wreckage strewn in metallic, scurvy sweat
drops. They shine on a motorwaying
shroud. In straw bedcloth’s revving night.
Slumber’s crashing visions, never wait for me
to cross. They’re laughing amber’s crunched
derision. At my tunnel’s, citrus face, aloss.

Crimson trickles: traffic lights; all red, running from, scarlet
sharp-brake eyes.

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