Pop in the hands clung together
whether it be hers or mine it’s irrelevant
elegant fictive follies frisking our spindles and a submerged
surge of lanky trees plea to be that lush green newborn like before
or at least brush the sky bright as an atomic blast blinding
and billowing malleable creatures and dreams dancing daringly
among the atmospheres’ stage.
It casts a daunting penumbra under those umber eyes
prizes seem dull and otiose crumbling in my palm
calmly building a ship to search for the missing verbs
birds slide and cut while the moon croons me to sleep
not a peep from home probably gaged by the surmounting time
whining and shivering on top the purple velvet mirage.
Wharfs welcome strangers with jeers and applause
I pause surrounded by peeks seeking a piece of agreeable truth
or proof that this world’s glimmer is as sharp as its bite
fighting to keep my words from falling off the page
stages of anxiety drowned by bibulous guffaws
saw the friendly phrases massage my mind
and prosperous nubile identities wishing me to find
them under a new Sun.
