tropics
totes and pinafores are set to scatter
plastic dolls on nearly every page
of classic education theory meaning
the sober rubber-stamping that the in-house
bureaucrats have grips on going round
their phones in strictest isolation from
family autos coming down to question
the interpersonal relationships
a previously grounded child’s story
starting with a hopeful line of plastic
formats in which the sensing element
is rooted pulling figures into every
transformation while a frieze of two
hippos makes an island paradise
tidal
as eyes adjust to focus sizes shapes
and ages hiding under their enormous
hats and watch sequential sketchbook pages
pass through exposed white painted walls encasing
their spirits keep on spying lines about
his lips resolve to lick as if he might
taste the burning sand and fail to heed
the day’s red heat has grown no longer peaceful
but merciless how summertime keeps strolling
the beach the surf the poolside ways erotic
need converts the hilly vistas sketch
their everyday contingencies refracting
gold on the breakers tempered to the rhythms
of bodies beaming through the washroom screen
teatime
the teacloths hung up afternoons leave out
the words they used to do you want to feel
dangerous their anger isn’t sleepless
sunsets giving way beneath a full
moon always leaves them to their ordinary
private strolls a while you see they reach
conclusions custom made for lovers what’s
been happening to sleep has gone the way
you see they look to you want dangerous
to feel their anger cannot fathom your
wearing out their words are leaving them
space for silent twilight walks and you
come round to what a waste it is how i
just swill it on a spoon awhile and eat
No comments:
Post a Comment