Friday, April 21, 2017

the abacus

 in latin endings these skies
 are shot with green bathtubs
 the only notion of the existence
 of their bathtub pilots
 are the pairs of arc'd crimson eyebrows
 shaped as rooftop boomerangs
 and the pairs of olive cotton gloves
 that grip the rolled flanged and
 gumbroned sides
 so that as a picture
 these great hyphenated arcs
 of animated flying bathtubs
 these green bathtubs driven
 by ageless eyebrows and gloves
 may create a semi-transparent
 and highly articulated coccoon
 to the great and snowy linens of the clouds
 which like breasts and water-lilies flecked
 together with the pure blood and suns
 have come into a wreck of azure
 an invergence of scaled liveries

 the eyebrows themselves may be colossal
 400 skinless and blood red marsyas apiece
 each 'fa-lala-conquero-rub-a-dubbing'
 their doubled oboes (aulos-hubris-hubris-aulos)
 so that the eyebrows alone
 are able to screach as hideous
 as any present and future bronzes

 and so

 and given that there may be some
 vaguely indecent curiosity about the nature
 of the bathtubs themselves
 about how exactly they tend to startle
 the chaste blue dream paper of the sky

 each bathtub
 is worth a parthenon of marble
 and the abacus from which they all escaped
 from the blank spectre
 without crisis

 and from the great and verminous criticism
 which wells up in your heart like a sign

 a nude toughed in the hiss of an alien sloe cuff
 a nude turning blue from the gumbing of the tangle
 of the abacus which is a tangle of brambles

 tearing the skin
 of the sign

 from which heavy iron corn ears shoot out all at once
 in the glory of an aura

 a brun plaqua
 which depicts a haunted barn
 irking all with a grueling song