Sign of the Teeth

Often cranial clouds inspire the changes
Which delight the teeth, those orphans
To paradise. Switch back the canal of thinking
Juice, this retaining wall begets that
Crevice of offal, two bleak trains squelching
Their cargo of canned meat into tripled
Vents of steam and vitriol. Thinking trips
Two beams of the laser detector, her gnarled
Watchdog, and in go the cans, also perilous
Other thoughts which clog or are themselves
Arteries of bad vision. Also, the circular saw
And its bandwagon of giving bone, the puss
Gives up to grinding what intentions boil,
Some dust come up from clicking connectors.