Book Matched boats.

To Corrupt the languid approach of its rotating gauge

With only three constants and a vowel

To dial into accordions keys to agree to disagree 

Over which matches burn ships 

As three minutes is all it took to make the tea

as the loose leaf mast was brought to The ground.

Whilst straddled galleons tell their own tales 

of armada verses that can be mirrored 

on dry docks above the rivers 

As Seeding reeds of probability weave amongst

the weather from beneath a frosted glass 

Stripped Bare in this winter.

Whilst forgetting desires inspired by death 

Seen on a late night of the visually distorted

rebound in tourniquet.

hands pass maps that guide you to the lovers that are 

Still warm even in the cold light of a day

as furnace plumes cast strange Ideas of freedom.

Folded in cold ore cups of the ruins.