My elation is straying.
My eyes close.
The man behind the curtain is hollow,
and the curtain has thousands
of loathsome love letters pinned to it.
My rabbit opines on my snowing skills.
a little caustic,
In the refurbished grass
a wild warren dines.
I walk over,
pale as a breeze,
Rolled in my silk sulk,
I am not purchased.
so many odious pounds of plague
lurking in the water.
Kilowatt kilometer killing
Electricity winds through the wind.
I need an old marble career. Bees all have careers,
ambitious buzzing bees bringing fresh honey to my nude mouth.
My silken sulk vanishes,
a zing in the sun,
In the crumbling marsh,
the fairy of lights
is raging through the reeds.
But inside the sprinkled, speckled, freckled woman light,
there is a darkness drawing the empty city ever closer.
Tangerine wars have been waged
on this page of history,
And the man in the dark gray jacket is about
to turn the page,
and the new page is plastered with little boys.
Some grow lemons.
Some grow limes.
At the bottom of the page
the great Citrus Wars break out
like measles in a less half hearted century.
I am the virus that stalks through the trenches,
muting and murdering.
This war so tangy and pulped,
is only a mid day snack.
Perambulate through my old home.
Oh little yellow cottage!
I adore you!
With your evanescent doors,
your windows that only speak open,
your encapsulating buttercup bloom walls.
You were designed for me.
If I pluck a strand of hair
and leave it in a corner,
will you remember me?
I have loved you since you sprung up from the ground.
Turn away anyone who loves you less than us.
At the back of the throng a face perks up,
falls in love with your nurturing.
The Champagne all bubbles and drunk.
The hour fizzy and fuzzy;
blue hand clasped with the year.
The year is forever rolling away.
Tell me again your private mythology,
your cramped beginnings.
Unfurl the fire,
bask in the bright heat.
Home is so many tailored calico outcasts.
The cat slinks toward the transparent door,
What waits in the rusted cradles,
wanting the middle of men?
Are you nipping the fire as you did me?
How do you feel now that your message is miniscule
particulate floating in my lungs?
You were one long tooth phrase
they shouldn’t have written out loud.
Oh scrumptious cash!
How I longed for you when your
green paint floated above my fingers,
And now that I have a part of you,
Swaddled like a prized baby,
I long to share you
with a needy, needful world.
There’s a leak in my monstrous island,
the fossils falling out the bottom into a superlative sea.
I cannot patch it with barbed wire and fire,
that’s all I have.
I am an extremist.
I am the mountain.
I am the valley.
I am the lava that flows like a spring to the sea.
Soon, Darling, we will sink to the bottom,
forever cold and flat.