shadow
marionettes

on a screen hung
above my
bed
,

the fadeout tv set
behind our live
show
..

bursts with flickers and breaks
in programming,

who pulls the strings
for what moves the imagination?

as solid as air in
my throat

like
you spoke

of such dreamscapes
since fallen by
waysides

in landslides we scrape
for earth’s
surface

to find nothing above us
but time.