Rick says, "Planetary Innerspace."

crush tanzanite with opal
get yourself a peach
a pearl 
an earl of
sub-jacked car hacks
left abandoned at the bottom
head back toward an island
swim back toward the island
the shore the tiny pebbles 
the sand
the shushing tide
the inlet
the inherent summer sublet
the low moan of sex
audible yet 
through the thin walls
summer windows flung wide
the smell of sweet smoke
the funk of daily action
sweat and coffee brewing
flushed cheeks
worn down smiles
wrinkled shirts and 
uncombed hair

crush it
grind it down
a rhythm 
naturally arrived at
naturally found
the music a combination
of voices
talking singing
screwing screaming
and cartoon renderings 
of terror
the highway 
nearby the car horns 
adding their two cents
distant

crush the powder planet
grind it down to coal dusters
shit disturbers all of us
render us in tiny increments
diamond fistfuls 
rocks and oil dust
honked into mid-morning existence 
high frequency feedback
in the curving mystery
of your inner ear