Tuesday, July 03, 2007

The Helix Mobile

Your sun’s on a track, one finger

Of casual disinterest flicks

It in a half empty room.

Bangers & walls, balance along

With felt and terrible stew,

The wheel turns on its straw.

Most shadows make quadrangles

Against sock slump, laundry

Of creaturely mass.

Or the moon’s nurse, gravity’s noose

Blends crumbling & growth

With an amusing curse,

Course & the grime & the nectarine’s

True adventure through

A blooming awake.

Imploding fruit, rays on the string,

Funnel & stirrup markers

To north, to nowhere but dark matters

Slurry crystals of ice & begotten

Shades trip failure & bombs. So long

The unfrozen’s unrotten.


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