Grounded

It is a circumstantial advance
this silk-screened slide into taxi drugs,
this motion of running liquids
across the window's grain
& the expectation of crouching angels
in the doorways.
Don't mess with your own mind.
It has happened before and again
and before it happens again
you will
lean on lurking visions;
deepeyeance
and the slinky blues will gather
smaller and tighter springs to you
& will the great bits in the well
to rise uncommon easily
in a mechanical dance of steel destruction,
sutured cogs,
and heavily chromed hairpipes
that breathe the exhausted air
and foul any intake to a screwdriven solution.
I have the sulphur in my mouth
for any given or taken
any riven or forsaken song.

You must be THIS tall to get on this ride
and wider than THIS to feel it's hold.
This is gravity's verdict
regardless of your plea or pleasure
and in denial;
we hold ourselves to the ground
which is most pleasantly spinning
by this GMT solution
and the knowledge that such gods
as GPS
really may be steeply purchased.