PLAY

I honor myself, the spark of creation at rest in me
which will overwhelm galaxies.
I dwell in bung hole nirvana,
armpit of the imprisoned colonies.

Tablets and furniture cluster in shaped air
at the glimmer snap of my key ringed fingers.
Engines shuttle out of the walls built up for solitary travel,
the circle of eyes grows to eclipse the moon.

The shadows of city ships totter like lampshades
attacked fleetingly by the drunk of hell.
Love medicated by punctured dreams,
stormed by reality, subway seats and country trees
split open, leaking with sky stuff
and scum basement stuff, the brittle funk of ages
halved shell of spilled grease for brain
from a going omnibus.