gorged on rocks abode

clay relics merge
their drip houndings overlap
in the low-slung driveway
at the base of the heavy foundation
encrusted with stone faces
where the curved house at the top
of the hill mixes phone cables
with white porcelain kalis
cloning the little dog in the
no voices gorge
no bees excess their draining
before the animals who circle
slowly the drain clay
mandala eye
glow
white porcelain bee hive kali
suddenly sprays and explodes
the honey mine of money
all the skin in the world
giving each topology a nozzle
red leaves are moistened
and stacked

whose clay demon genius
is this
whose demon jesus clay
is this
in my forest abode
gorged on rocks
it looks as if the two ferns
were suddenly one
the fuzzy outlines
are sunbathing
before the thin snaking
swimming pool language
when i revive the creature
its big feet and wooden shoes
splash cheerily along the edge
of the soup bowl and
waiting our turn at the soupmobile
judy makes us wait
in the rain
with our chittering medals out
the old lined paper
shoof wahloo

no recognition
is worth the easy prey
whose owls cluster in a ring
stepping to a clock
it lives in a ball
of bricks
up on the wall
he comes from the back room
to check on the cricket racks
recording their sleeping children
whose voices reveal
tunnels laid on top of the clay
where the relics raise their hands
in ecstasy
it lurks in the weird calls
which leak from the cavern
whose hares
they gather

the world is proof everlasting
of many different kinds
of conspiracy