A planet of antique thoughtshards
rolls along the voidful pavement of sky
[pleasing formulae,
a stacked deck,
citrus inertia,
and a slowly accelerating guffaw]
An automaton, beehive peddler,
marring erratically the palace walls,
honeycomb kelp, nacre of starstuff,
into sleep's senseless bosom
(Excuse me,
I misspoke)
I fall headfirst.
Tomorrow I shall...
[snatches of familiar music
stretch impossibly]
wearing mesh armor.