No / I have not / been

No / I have not / been /a helicopter bouncing down the desert on a string – to liven / enliven / foreshorten / work apart a braid of yellow hair –  ‘eerie rice’- that’s what I always say –   potshots from the plank, infrequent rain, Gram wearing his wooly poncho in the background.  We drive to mexico again just to drive to mexico again,  an-idle kaleidescope * yodel that * as winds soften the hairs about your face / I am sceptikle, I am / the hamstring of tomorrow afloat / aplomb / softening the economy all around us. Be we a tough bush of roses in the august aire, effulgent, onestarinthewholefuckingsky, w/ ‘no way of know-ing’ and folding both ways to work, some kind of ocelot pushing against us to be quiet, a barn among the snow lingering in its own perfection for how long before.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>