Three glass eyes.

The feathers of wild turkeys plucked

And found reattached to the Recreational tourists

Hands last seen head dressing as the shutters 

close on the green eyed shadowed heroine 

once found on abstract laser disc 

boxing filigree filed between a thrift store career.
As Dispatcher rides towards the cote of doves

Searing glass eyed and water endings

Weaving In vines tracing now within

its vains as it trys press ganging the world

To a faster time of already slow inked words.
to take the corners with detachment 

and view the toll and see the created in the belted image.
as the Flushed Rosacea fades but for a simile of youthfulness

Amongst beach curtained X’s as it trys to tape over

It’s naked front to back Cover the thoughts of its latest 

nought with well rubbed brass.
As the sequenced try’s to lay claim to Steam keys 

now lying in the gutter with open mouths full of harmony.