tying the scabs, custard crustaceans stain my boils
river clung folks know the cycles
of seasons and reason to merge them
would you like to mete my feather
the pleasure is all mine spine articulate oceans
fin mining binary systems of stapled eyes
Dylan coal bright eaten into sky spied desolation
fields farmed and dark hungry roams
stretching mile after mile in rural streetlamp-less AMerica
Dawn is a hungry east when Beltane dances late April, lyrical scars
and czars part with painted glass and horses,
we fold in the chronologies avoiding writing them down unabridged
we magic eye everything keeping loose stepped lucidity our best friend
phone booth-ing the soul we ride when no one is looking
'shadowfax, pegasus and Orion follow Iris to where Moon never
bothers to look, womb black salt, thirsty for iron
and the raucous joys of bowling while drinking beer ...
meanwhile the cat chews are somewhat tasty
and I pray all the mothers guard the pups
middle of the night
middle of the road
middle of the why
middle of the poem
here we saw to it
that the words died
but didn't give off a scent
we used electricity 3V small pin adapters
to star gaze what sights
gave their bones to memory
hairy=while gravity worked the nomenclature calendars
hip phila fila-greed breeding the chance orientation
half the maps inside you are made up
can you believe now canyon eel
nowhere now here where on was
plus and minus of any equation
juniper as Summer approaches
reminds me of cat piss
and I like the cello ass
and the way past your bed time
slip stream of words and fingers
and the tourniquet pleasure
of thought spigot hot high Sun
coming to all the picnics this year
old pock marks of past lives
become secreted pictures
bubbling like crude oil
to the top of clock time
in a leather satchel found while cleaning
a house that kept a couple twined til death
did one part them while madness
in the form of a long grey goodbye
sought the wane of the other
the livery of their Life
and Love pieces of eight
soul and memory
now, then and again
all the things we keep
that keep us
an old hearth
over taken by
early tall rye
EJR ©
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