Zinc Skies

Molten thoughts disappear under the sidewalk

Where the pressure of progress tamps it all down

Something pulls a hamstring a comet unquenchable

A bundle of cracks like smiles in the ice

Your mouth pent up against the glass

When there is nothing left there is still there

Gazing into itself whence the fold or the crack

With the thumb of dawn poking out

And everything returns only intensified and wilder

If that is conceivable to lovers

Amazed by the stupid things that replace you
Somewhere beyond the last filling station

In the province of disappear

The withering honey of reality
The bride of the city one hand around your throat