Is the dusty ground around the ancient tomb really cartoon
orange?
the flying fish leaping over the wave
is it really a symbolic cinematic rainbow
inside an egg of imagination
in a sleepy calculus that dreams of flying machines?
your bold moaning is my rock of rain
a golden wind over the reef...
listen to this disabled symphony:
hell itself
shakes the breaking baby...
Romeo your unspoken Juliet does a solo tango
with a hungry sentimentality...
while the impossible waltz is walking away
in the spooky clown face of an autumn evening...
this sugary gluttony in the philosoph dreams
a French wedding in the doctor’s garden of secrets
on a raft in a
frosty with tomorrow’s storm
is moored in a paper
harbor on a factory made desk...
home cooking rests in peace
with the iridescent postcard fossils...
on a holiday an immigrant
without a passport
without color
butters the husk of the moon
for the computer gallery
and the door in the light
with its safety catch
off...
*
(for Kirrill D’Kainn)
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