Draft 1.1
Turning steps to lower earth
toying with the cross
cradle carries it down a canal
shouting mad.
Forest a lost mould
permanent-surface runways
drowsy tinklings lull
distant folds
annexing the French
breathless Red Flower.
Snow on roof
Spirit of Sleep
stalks of amber-yellow
falling heavily
topples the Saw-Horse
pounds of grub
shrunken
to fantastic levels
swooned away
for excess.
Volcanic nature
of the moon
globe of goldfish
mist and cloud
vast shuffling
selfish passepartout
deaths intoxicating
conversions
hurling humming whistling
banished to desire.