He gave another appearance of dreams

In the stifled ground simmering on a rope
to tug the ambassador of scopes
into a package desalination
where sisters take you before a fitted fire
neither to distract you from a distance
or dream a made-up counter-fish

Just walking past a distilled lake
intended for Pepsi bottles and cheese
never did you sing unrath tidings
like lost songs of our young wanderings
making up the driveway with cameras
and escaping timepieces smashed on traffic lights
here bellicose storms stored keep you indoors
not on this hill of buried sun shadows