SMALL ROOMS



Spark in the black globe

of a rabbit's eye.  The walls

bleed black ooze.



Huge hedge dwarfs a raised

ranch, a world chloroformed &



pinned on a wax background,

piles of exotic magazines

collect dust in the basements

of a dumb age.



The horseheaded man

is afraid to pay the paperboy:



The hairs on my arms are alive

with blips of bioluminescence,



I'm a glowing blob in the

crushing dark of the very deep sea.



I feel the lawn eddy away underfoot,

I hear the thrum of the drums,



A blighted confidant in a cathedral

of moss.  Silence invoice.



Equity of compressed bone,

some pact of gravity anchors



my shoes to these grim floors.

Come to this bonfire

that illumines a Braille of grunts,



solder soldier hats & goggles

to see the gems that grow from 



eyes, salt crystals up a banal

string.



I am of no people.



Dark, fragrant: the nerve-netted

flower that forms

the night's singing mouth.