a noise on the outskirts of my peripheral vision

a noise on the outskirts of my peripheral vision
is a god on a drum with electron eyes
stringing beads in a cavernous glory
while stitching eyelids to open eyes.
a sort of curtain that reveals...
as the steam of a heart-
full of worn out denim
and the dander
of a lost dog-
clogging the
atmosphere
with your
suspicions
and your fruit,
with wrong
seeds.

a dent in the wind-
is a whistle.
and you hum
the tune.