Here comes the satellite with every gleaming

Distance gliding over it

Enter frenetic clime and draw the deepest ink

Out of rabid goals

Only then appear initial glints of what they call

The Matches

Causing nets to fall on random rings from other planes

Jumping in lack of space the region blusters

Moving flasks from envy

Hopping the grated plow to make it on to

Weather a stone apart

Only at the shining of a tine proliferating Matches

Cold but singular and teeming with arrythmic down

What is your name—oh I see

You're not quite here

Where are you from—is that so

Some other place

Flashes upon the brine and statues move in

View of two beyond blue

Meeting the waving mind and harbored in the

Crest of a lovely nest

Magical causality is bound to gesture over borders

Fold along the grain of paper lined with gabardine

Here comes the subtle light with many keening

Instants hiding into it

Stopping the gate allows to wake up on the

Heather a Bonaparte

Only when up here a simple hint of lectures

Hover boulders

Pausing bets to call on random wings from other manes