TREME
A deep nexus sinks into dance
an Anne burr dance, a live oak dance ------
I perch in neon green and frozen
dendrites, and Santa Claus in a poetic corner
(whistles walk by in cream coverings,)
Dublin walks by, Oak walks by
Forget the peake in the grey center
on the cigarette sword in black casing
An extra pale corner anytime -----
I'm in socks I found totally thin in the Treme
The green and red springs in consciousness
Elapse to say RESPECT MY MIND on newspaper
a group pulls up to get a job, the advocate
of status quo --- and pink rose jogging
stop the sky, eclectic, all the
roads cement graveyards
stop the wind before it pulls you to
your house, to the cabinets, to the room.
Five o'clock red whimpers by, on the
corner in pajamas, smells the pattern of the birds.
I get secretly fucked up on this
sky burning white before blue-purple-blue
I celebrate the blue dark wires and
dogs in their pink bird formations across blue
and the barcode dwindles in the trees
behind electricity. and live oaks -----
Blue sky has been but a dream where
I've fallen through rafters in a train/junkyard
I've wandered in your galactic
digital dream, and found swimming
The water is glue, and dries me
in a different form in another dream
A shadow where I may prop birds
near plastic bags we see as home.
A giant black question mark glows
on a white sign ------ why did we meet
Scratching your paws, a black and
white question wandering home.
GLOWING
Even farther away
My brain is cider;
light headed, black with mist
in a cylindrical-motorcycle-course
Hanging bag, and pixel,
and fences, crooked picture,
and picture, and organizer
Nail polish dreamcatcher
and how does that light come
from nowhere, and I
pause my eyes for a beer --
Hanging books and hanging boys
and pants and feet are
still in the candle light
and what purpose do sounds
entangle with tents in
our dreams, where we’re walking
