treasure town

dead winter furs chafe the wood

floor paneling chew through holes of deep

trans-vested dusted chairs

and overgrown lice couches throwpillows and cushions

enough foam filling soft packing fabrics like peoples mouths

around tables of give standing smoking drinking

the weave of champs loin upon every graven lone leg

sitting instrumentation folded between foundation

columnal noise pockets bursting atonal

wave shapes abound vents of cone

depart and reappear endlessly