Ersatz Ignatz

The clockwork saguaros sprout extra faces like planaria stroked by a razor.Chug say the sparrows, emitting fluffs of steam.Chug chug say the piston-powered ground squirrels. The tumbleweeds circle on retrofitted tracks, but the blue pasteboard welkin is much dented by little winds. The yuccas pulse softly under the grow-light sconces. Here is the door he will paint on the rock. Here is the glass floor of the cliff. He’ll enter from the west, backlit in orange isinglass, pyrite pendants glinting from the fringes of his voice.