morning at 10am
past startuling sunlight through the stars
like sliding on itchy paper
clips of sensitivity

morning like pot of milk
drained in fingers and paws and claws
sliding through
plastic toys of car machines
when simpsons trumple

of science called tune
when neighboroughs echo into
caves with bees
and thats the home of
witch faith
faith
of uncommon trance

morning like beer opener
in the claws of oak trees
sliding into walls
sliding into paws.