CRANIUM NIGHT

There are only the smallest moments left, when branches twining up among
the last steeples of light can make me feel a weakening inside, a wonderful
and hollow cusp of nothing.
Let sway the rigid atrophies! Scatter the spores of old hair-cuts,
nail polish, sweaty vinyl back seats,
gasoline and mowed lawns-
devour the immaculate!
The cranium night is long.
I am awake.