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.
Oct 12, 2003
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