I’ll lob your violent triangular scent
high into the polished wanton air
far from the radiant beams I sought
High branches of train cars with room to spare.
Past robust worded stallions tossing manes of fire
we will soar through Corinthian stables
Roman in structure, and literary of thought
libraries will span the gaping niche where Shiva dances in sandalwood.
Like silver moonshine we will fly
without thought or voluptuous Herculean fist
through lightning bug gardens and cartoon-colored urban hair
Pink leather angels will lead to a cotton candy mother-of-pearl Heaven
beckoning like gaseous supernovas,
explosions in night of dangerous patriotic display
extraordinary and obscene as we dance to the universal cellos of Elysia and Scotland
And once we find ourselves in cavernous spelunked vases of earth’s wide-lipped mouth,
we will sing with the sound of crickets and moths in tune with reed whistles,
we will follow a labyrinthine kite tail and swing upon its ribbons
up to where a great marble Pan awaits with arms open and cold.
And when I leave you in the embrace of the idol,
how then will I find my long brilliant way back,
through fields of rain and nights of oil paint
when the road is slippery and sour with the solitude I breathe
and the frozen shipyards I travel will stretch my foot till it has become long and sallow
stringy and sunken as I trip and stumble back to where I started,
one less than when I began,
one less for the trials of camaraderie and spoiled ruby sunset than when I first threw you to the wind,
so expectant, so fragile and handsome, like a scarf or hat half frozen in the first freeze of fall
waiting to be rescued, with no knowledge of the scathing sinister world that has frozen you.
©10 April 2011