Monday, May 3, 2010

If I'm A Turkey Than You're A Rooster

Missing a step on your facial escalator
A fleeting composition
as if your nostrils were interrupted for a brief message from your sponsors.

John's stretching through Stitzer's aviators
A brief light escaping between the leaves
olive green, hesitating
in a flicker of dissonant brows
waxing your face onto your mouths
rooted in sporadic photosynthesized academics,

The eye of your fast history
flipping Californian mountains, train stubs
and crazies, their roadside thumbs warring
entangled within a begger's glee,
a meditative gaze floating on my afternoon tea.

Glimpsing our duplexity
quadrilateral collateral
coloring my cities
pressing against the glass with a muted trombone
imagine waling in a washing machine
serenading your contented giggles
furiously haling their validity

when the sound cuts out
transition lost in transmission.
We, the bi
logical sincerity of 'peek-a-boo' and 'hide-and-go-seek',
I duck and cover in this word cellar
where I ask us to find me,
drive right through my thumb
strutting amongst a garden inflating the pride of knik knaks
washed in artistry.

We'll echo about a clearing
where deforestation didn't phase us.
There's a year of silence in all that we've given trust.