Sun, Ants, Mosquitoes, Sap
Fresh; driving daisies around in a large crane
that beckons and calls to all the seagulls
that fly and flock to the beach
where I used to live.
Someone stole my hole
and hung it up to dry
until there was nothing left;
evaporated hole.
“I like my thingy,
Whatsit said.
Gobbledygook,
spoken like a true professional
with hardly any clothes on;
no silky vest.
Tradesmen welcome,
just to test.
I buy wine, not the best.
She quivers in her brain
spanking her little toes for being rude
to her giant squid fear
of being suckered.
Iron my chest flat.
I do believe this little panic will disappear.
With poetry to hear;
cervical smear;
angry frontier.
Let me be your fuel,
your fodder for what you blame
that eats your eyes out.
Screaming for a good time.
I balance for lunch
a toothbrush on end
on a leaf
that gives so much shade.
I can’t speak, anymore,
about red dirt
and things that look spiky
but are actually soft,
and soft things that are actually spiky.
I smell the clouds every day,
sweet dew to me;
westward looking totem poles,
lots of them.
Somewhere I haven’t been
Summarizing the special force of nature
That keeps bringing me back again
Circles of pure karma
Creating a double rainbow on expressive trucks
On the inside of perfection
I roll over and bring the wind to a stop
Then I let it blow again
All over the place
Generously motivated to fill up a sail
Dark in the background
That once was the territory
Only of pirates and smugglers
Treasure chests full of old nicknacks
Shiny and golden
Sold on through the years and lost
I don’t want my dirty laundry out on display either
Collecting dust and spitting copper where ever it lays
Not just rust.
Drifting out of one time scale into another
Mindful not to delay the others
Observations can take all day
Birds on top of telegraph poles looking both ways
At what is underneath the blue skies
Clutter of abundance
Or more than enough love
Open to receive from another source
The final resting place
Of space sorted and correct
Changing the cheese for whatever’s next.
16.08.02
Tags: poem