warheads

a platonic bomb

exploding only

the fifth dimension

mushroom clouds

that erase outsides,

leave everything in.

ghosts bowl over

like lawn chairs;

they don't decide how

they sit with you.

cutting the blades

in alphabetical order,

para-neural activity

becomes an algebra.

time scatters through

Ys in a slubstep of sun

light, where the shadows

can't stop breakdancing.