Andrew J. Jones - untitled

happenstance pricks the solid balloon whose whole boundless energies hack and twist this prose to the rising of the constellations but never find the glorious big wide world

the victims often chew their limbs ashes fall the church is a bomb

in summer the anxious observe droplets of whispers though windows water ascends to the smudge of clouds a then synthesis of moving and sleep
through the lens of the new eye

Andrew J. Jones

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untitled-180/