I conjured bijoux and blue Adelaides

galore out of thunderclap headaches

mistaking earthquakes for nausea,

the breaking broken arc of the gull

gained fresh Hells and grave auras;

the gull dives, now in ionospheric

heights where it is impossible

to breathe, but like gazing at

the sea-floor, offers a momentary

treasure of a glance: yes, there

is something more.