After long days, I am put to work again
And tinsel and hurtling: an unfurled world
of men, preens icen feathers
along its length. It just rained, and an ocean
is a vast ocean of blue and magnetic
monosyllabic sounds: those inside the shells
inside those oceans. I sputter and flicker-
blissful through this world of current
warmed by some gaudy sun on leather
and glued to some endless nights of onyx
amorphous tar in their enormous streets.
A cobbler's tiny brat of a son
with sun- run ruddy hair
and finicky fingers dreamt me,
He smoothened my edges, greasing my folded heart
with bits of sour attachment, and his dreams-
just as frivolous,- as free.
Tonight I swim: a majesty-
a breeze- sweep your streets
fishing for sounds and your memories
Maybe I have become a bird,
and through your world, I'll cut
to the bloating dots in the horizon.
Maybe those are trees,- I'll find out
Lanky and embellished-
two leaves press my two eyes
flaky dew press my two eyes
Maybe the last sound I hear tonight
- cart wheel.