Whims
A hot tongue, voodooed soul.
Determined, a small and nameless bird.
My teeth, my teeth too shy for bones,
My words too old for stones.
My spine lights for batten eye,
a half-shoulder caramelling othercold.
Spit thick.
Mouths on your hands,
they go to party icing, they chew their meat,
Carry thin sticks.
Fishy minds swished in dishwaters
Spooned from each sea.
O, brainy Atlases.
How you hold your lumpy lints,
your tumbleweeds wet wares
of women sipping the night,
hair chewed as treegums.
I'm the night train.
Chuff-chuffing you away, my tender bump!
We leave a trail a sigh.
We feed the baby birdie beaks open wide
as we sail by.
We toss gold like rice and diamond,
puddled skipping pebbles.
But you,
you've made me a ring of brick.
You've made me a house
of the best styrofoam.
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