Magicians lost dominoes.

Can’t turn a succubus around with magicians cards 

A Heart not made for a hill climb beat

marked out for the morning.
Opening up late night for a golden view 

Of hand signals for a once bull rushed market 

Pisces of a fixed scene always out of water.
as the willow brush the ledge

Pressing  feathers into leafs for dancing magpies 

Within the mathematicians springtime   

the missing coin now Folds paper nests

roses to float and ruses to fall.
Leaden legs sailing past the temple Islands 

of old longitude rivers and latitude minds

banks joined by ironed out bridges 

ones that can’t be burnt.
To sit amongst rising lavender fields 

with bowed bumble bee strings 

A chiming machine penny for paper 

Great races change like sunset isobars 

Setting rhythms of Oval points 

to all the missed stars.
above a head Of crowned new heights 

Still they Hide the streams  

feeding rivers below fallen dropped her shawl 

As antlered shields of consciousness 

a domino red box of a paradise laden future.