i am up and strutting
atmospheric lightning bolts
dialed in if you get my meaning
i didn’t fuck that stuffed rabbit
it was that way already…
-
you storm the beaches and wipe the sea comb
- with thrushes
warm hair incense bent of parsimony
a gracious coat of moo echoes
the things that we said went understood
moments of attention run true
through the brains ironic pulpy matters
as tomatoes and iron that meet as fractions of energy
spleen kisses thorax rubs
the sins of the fumbling fingers few and grunting
by the guests and the staff
not for feeling alive in the winter
no grappling in the shade of a full moon
only awareness this moment and will to wield it
light to burn transformation
cobalt crayon carved into the holy foreheads
adorned with love of acolytes’ drone song