Monday, March 3, 2014

Hyphoon: A Stroke of Good Fortune

her grey breast birds distant

upon the crimson beach's 
embroidered pictoform sentences

the ringing rising from a splendid white glove
which covered some cactus fingers

reaching out from the painting
to touch

the herm-knife hedge plunged in the fome
which plummeted down toward the yellow

waxen globe with its little satellites
of hovering yellow glass books

the color is unimportant
but uselful for remembering

what who swings the sky
what who burns the seething wheels

in windows whick plummet down toward
the cage where the muse is thickened

its dense blue bulbous nose facing outward
to the rain which urns

its chess pieces grown together like a city
my buttocks upon your back like a breast sign bird song

a long thin sac reddening from an embarassment 

of niches
at one end a pistol 

at the other a calabash
and crumpled rugs built up into a bridge damm

the silver smith's silver shoes lined with green velvet
and the little stone inkpot they move around

with an indistinct mind
a cane made from an earhorn with a mirror mounted on one end

a pygmy albino kangaroo leaps up on a loaf of bread
the tiny head regarding a larger one

and vice versa
the eyes fade breathe, their masks fringed with lanterns

siamese corsicans
charm of david exploding

no tong large enough to lift the burning idol
from its safe and sucking socket

to wield its eye
often the holy dome must hover

where the meadow begins its lurching throe
and bounty mangled white as fish tailed faces thrummering 

lutish gelid flesh bulbs
the skin sectioned off for paragraphs

the thatch growing down and out
from the navel of this fog

its triangular light
in grain

make no hats to conceal its vivid skull-heart
hands tall to charcoal coming

the azure balloon armor which came for you
to steal your body

the two square black peas
which level the boat prow maiden's laughter

rocket fountain
blue ivory their eyes entwine

through islands of cloudless
pipe figures


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Irrony Observes The Earthing.