Friday, August 31, 2012

Tumble Fade Jut

clinging to the bat
and the fruit kit hung on a hook
to mimic the honeysuckle
bunks rapped to a bundle
we fit up over the bridge
where the streamers come furling out
from the leavers, hand hat label thropping
and being so close to its instrument
in the cold hollow moon
its crisp circle mourns
its mouth to perform
for the ricochet renegade vivitone
they stay
through gusting
onslaught angularizing to the slit-eyed
unification of what
recording the island of milk
its babylon central garden to act like a wreck
the stage come bubbling up from the waves
and loud the fluted forehead raves
organ incomprehensible
in mammoth torque
their unborn holy stories
fireflies in the pine mist
coal buried long to antelope followers
burning immortal
cotton and bitter
sea mother another
close knit stalking
the dark its empty hungry goad
and push
the order
rut star wrong and equal