Unlocked.
this will be the third moon I’ve swallowed
mocking the hyacinth
painting in blues
I like how it fills me
trembling and decadent
wrecking and soothes
without telling character or context
trading in sorrows
covering in lime
I like how it dysotopes
stretching cold fires
strangling for time
I read between the lines
only when they’re imaginary
if you draw them for me
I will ignore them
I listen for quiet between the beats
only when they’re real
if you imagine them for me
I will ignore you
I taste everything lingering on simplicity
not only when I’m hungry
if you try to fill me with you
I will ignore the feast
no variations within
the deviant’s always
askew
nutty and soft inside
craving arms
enfolding
finding arms
akimbo
ire and algae
bubble out of the geyser
won’t somebody see
can they superglue the wing
or is it too cracked
the song’s still lovely
wait a moment
listen
gathering woolly thoughts
feeling warmth from a faraway place
stretching tired limbs and wiping the last tears
picturing holding you
watching the sun cross the sky
sharing ideas and thrilling with colors
we ebb and flow
ethereal lasting longer than corporeal
no odes suffice
nor bawdy limericks
when there’s deep heart and beauty
love and hope prevail
no darkness can completely cover such light
bunched denim propels thought to bicycles
picnic under the stars only worked for Fitzgerald
straw men with fast hats rode clean
gas station attendants played banjos for company
copper keys on green necks
opened secret gardens long thought dead
sweet candy contraband revels in a cause
twirling calliopes steamed town’s window shoppers
thoughtful rodents hoard ink
somewhere waxed mustaches danced
The Word Rummager 