The way that "Montauk" feels in your mouth To conjure white sands and moto jeans As though we all somehow got greyer-eyed On Halloween The all-white quiet of Meadowlark Woods Split clean open by Mossberg report And the downy barn owls, palmetto vexed, Become a sport Lavender in a wreath around your head Safely hidden in the monolith Sacred horror sleeps it off in fits There are islands of lucidity But we've been proven irresponsible And I am hardly jettisoning gold With no excuse Lavender in a wreath around your head Safely hidden in the monolith Sacred horror sleeps it off in fits Twisting slowly from the black lagoon Smoking flower in an azure plume Having finally found our quiet room