The police pull roses from a boy's mouth.
Access is granted to extreme tikanga
only when all the words have been gathered.
We multiply signs;
they get their own vivacious life,
turn vicious when the evening's ending
complaining that they're still not loved enough.
Dictate a pleasure dragon.
Sensation writes out bodies in code.
This mood is a whole new map we come to in
in which we learn to find systems.
I accelerate from the last letters,
you try going backwards thinking of art films,
when the trees lift off the screen we're stuck in
something has worked. Lose the knack
start over, walking South like you did
last time, forgetting it all, left eye on the rocks
staring through as if in far distances
and going so slow that you cup your breath.
When we're inside this luxury
with the lights on, concentration's magic:
the inflated city inside molecules
holds us right off the ground.
