A brown dawn fluctuates
along foundation
and misconduct.
The moon is overtaken
in its concealment
and cycles down
into contrivances.
The dream of architecture,
which eclipsed the violence
of its inception, collapsed
the volition of its inaner
epic in a wake founding
the circumference
of her pink city-state.
One recites only excerpts
from the tentative redaction
of some apocrypha
reconstructed after the fact
that one happens to be.
One happens upon this hut
through the negation of abandon.
Still, lacking
the word will not
star her consequence.
Tomorrow will just be
a misworded account
proclaimed from memory.