the song the smog
a luminance crossing the street between my lungs
horizon blotted by trees I could throw to
over the houses and through the cars
8 kids playing football; no one else is home
in every room in my house is a door to another room
with someone I never met whose door opens
some other neighborhood where the clock has the runs
smells no windows opened here for months
incense sweat garlic with 4 feet
when I move the ladder my house ascends
as if the earth building force as a foundation
worms bursting jars starlings swimming underground
concentric interiors a page too long to turn
when the windows find antoher station
I confuse breathing with accordion
paralyzed water anything could be in the middle of
like reverse engineering a seed
to live inside a tree without killing it
neither saprophyte or heavyweight
every wall at least 5 rituals
so much willpower forgotten makes the best roof
open to the street like a bouncer on commission
address is access the wrong door at the right time
internal saxophone compass
unclenching the jonts kickback suspension
been half n hour since any bird
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