“Between Stones”
Pine cakes in a loose skillet, myself across the
missing puzzle of greasy sugar toward Gotham
at some hero’s cooked wing. Maybe it’s lost sesame.
So many words to imply delicious disappearance…
I’m over, beyond sassafras, near those individual preparations
of jewels at a mall with forbidden faith- that is, my mind.
Such deficit of attention leaves me with four mosaic eyes.
A lizard grows into unknown measures. Evan’s unreal
wedding, like urban magic and rural cure, appears distraught
with random exhibitions after bison is sampled from
two shivering rodeomen. Has anyone forgotten the
dusty yarn around the fiery Skirball? Before you go, remember
the ducks. I hurt the environment with bread and wonder.
My thoughts have lost air and my hair’s grilled against
the dying Betelgeuse once more. Dad has shot down Mars, too.
Japanese tubs are bleeding in reflections at the heat
for dented fish.
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