Sunday, March 25, 2018

Embroidered walks tugging at radiant sights,
wood metal monuments teeming grass files,
leaves with penny-sized holes drifting riot's wind,
thumb-harps twanging the rings around searching fingers,
bags of piano strings perpetually landing on the stairtop,
and a weary hand slapped aside by a younger hand,
and the prolapsed tunnels linking continents with train-cities,
blinking out the stars scouring sockets to get them back clean,
standing in the light shower of skidded and land-strapped cars

with a face of the sight tongue,
retinas shot with the wine of past skies
and fainting beauties on organized rubble,
lilac stems in the ripped septum,
countenance primed by engine sauce
chutes of bubble chains
still tracing ocean courses
without electric books and rooted windows
a digital eel with cold plier nostrils
mailing his address to the gun-sighted sun
with a field stacked of animal ladies
and opioid hands released from trouble
a trunk of ladles and symponuity of persimmon,
a sheaf of bled-on spice,
a fractured seeing-stone,
sunglasses on rye toast
with a nodding scepter.

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