This is an improv of "Looking West from Laguna Beach at Night" by Charles Wright. What I wanted to do was find little bits of language that intrigued me or were interesting and create something different from them.
When something is borne up and curried,
Mythic comes out of the eucalyptus. Oil rigs
And lanterns float, bob, somewhere far
Out from the clued in smog. Its endgame is
Where you are, where I am, where the pin
Pricks the history of whatever this place
Among the dark is, quiet, broken, glassed into
A hill above the sea that no lighthouse of
Metamorphosis can physically light.
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