cablecar at daybreak, from memory, by this light of night park / or: I’d like to put myself all under your Beautiful Organs

Listen! as the city rises
in hushes and hurls - my
heart appears, the green
tail of a swimming mess
of morning commution,
and there! by that park smell
hisses immolation egg
taking means of breaking
up the fast one too literally
Are these hurling streets,
yellow on spatter on steel,
baking midday swelt out
of partridge dew and
honey soles – pick them
out with your tongues if
you can, holding off swollen
and make something out
of that charred biscuit
than meat of its own return