Thursday, November 12, 2015

Tell Me What It's LIke

Tell me what it’s like
To slap a Byzantine insistence
Into definition. You know? So that
I can understand it. The thrust
Of the alligator into the river
Is nothing less than a parable
Of itself looking for dinner
But what I meant to say is acoustical
Like the pulse of a violet sky
Dripping from my brain. The hand
Is evidence of fingers, but the squeeze
Of my arms around you is meant
To convince you that I like you
A lot and if I see a bug play a concertina
I will tell you about it with bells
And innuendo. I will suckle the light
From a headlight and make love to you
While gravity thickens around us
In prophecy and the world spins
Into Wednesday which is my favorite
Day of the week except for Thursday
Friday and Saturday. Monday is damaged
By walking around on Sunday
Waiting to happen. And Sunday
Is obviously unconcerned. Once
I heard a pharmaceutical occur
To my body and fill my mind
With abstraction. It made me want
To write you a letter and hang
Upside down. Someday I hope
To fill a kiss with your lips
Entangled in a thousand themes
Of reckless abandon. Watch me sway
With the wind. I like to float around
In my head like a world but does it
Have a jaw of gold? No but it squirts fog
Like a metaphor assembled for winter

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