My eyes are burnt and bleeding and all that looks like a monkey
on a silver bar
big poop hatch with a cotton hatch hatch holes that the light
shows in and the light shows out
and the little red fence
and the wire and the wood
and the barbs and the berries
and the tires and the bottles and the caruponrims
and the heat swims on its fenders and the dust collects and the
rust of autumn surrenders into gold
trumpet poop on the ground with peanuts its bell was blocking
an ants vision
and the mice played in its air holes and valves
a ladybug crawled off its mouthpiece standing out red and blacked
its wings and blew off to a flower
its hum heard just above the ground
black dots were hung in what turned out to be an olive tree that
originally held a tree house full of a building with one small
window
birds and broken glass and tiny bits of newspaper
"My sun is free from the window," said the god the green dabbers
rice wires mouse tins and milk muffins
cereal and stone
matches and masks and mace and clubs
and splintered shaft light intrigues a cricket on a dust jeweled
penlet
cobwebs collect down plaster run into a hole and find collected
glass that drinks the reflection of midday afternoon midway between
telegraph lines
a silver wing a cloud a rumbling of a cloud
a crowd of various violins strum from next door through my wall
into my ear obviously artificial
neighbors laugh through sandwiches
Harlem babies their stomachs explode into roars
their eyes shiny with starvation
spreckled hula dance on my phonograph
my door rattles windy
sand wears my rug shoe and taps on the unheard finish of an hourglass
I cannot hear
a typical musicians nest of thoughts filter through dust speakers
"Why dont you go home? Oh Blobby, are you great," exclaims two
lips in some jumbled rock n roll tune and wears a spot I cannot
scratch
the surface of a friend
this high book a friend laid on me
on the couch relaxing in the corner behind a still life pond with
plenty of bugs and lily pads slurred in mud banks and boulders
tin cans and raisins warped by thought
strain on the spoon like a wheat check check Bif cotton popping
out of his sleeve
poop hatch open big poop hatch with a cotton hatch hatch holes
got to pick up the horns
but the head wont move until it walks
