Sunday, June 23, 2024

O green womb
O tinder of multiple flowers
carved swamp
with steaming ragged angles
cloud tangle of guitars
like an airship moving overhead
shadowing this keyboard body
bone shrine for hectic or magnetic
or majestic birds
stone foot
brought out of mud with nine mouths
net's nest of curling tentacles
horned eyes dribbling down
a blood burned pillar
dirt pounded round a wandering sun

what singing lopsided wagon
what chiming metallic buggy
could carry your wares
to the molten heart?

I am a torn arm with barnacled
elbow and forearm guards
padded with script,
reheated and cooled colors
from the yolk of my being
redeemed on playful blades
that wave like Floridian fronds
in an afternoon of bronze
night's nest of a double moon
in a curling spoon.

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