Take that glass weapon and blow out the breath that danger guides to lovers.
Speak to mirror. Speak
red wires out in the direction
dimension you suggest is unreason
and misfiring appropriately. It
isn't always what cowboys
holler after when nothing corrals
them to fences, speaking. Red
tips through fortresses sabotage.
Blue sabateurs. Red fenestra in
the front hills where everyone is
transfigured vandals.
Windows steam
and foam, they then seem revealed.
The nothing-image is frozen.
