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yellow canary brushed out from between my[your]
legs, i symbolize the runner, tamed sunscore
indigo outsides to insides of pale pink,
putrid p's, pauses purporting to show some
something sign of you, "looking into
your heart" and caught in razor wire,
   i scan the pictures on your forehead
   they mirage a foreign scene
   as prickly as a cactus
   dining on the carcus of idolaters
   and worse.
   i small the large of us,
   i call to kings and sun,
   smell my finga;
   shovelled out of Dumb,
   melting river, apple core;
   outta my (winkywink) backdoor.
and so we find the law, the sectioned
1's, amended curves, slices of
something we have forgotten to recall,
some earnest touch, its better off, though,
that we shutter memory from the rickshaw
light, its mote, its town-like suffering
all rusting hinges and see-saws
cut-out forms of us, we strange left-overs,
dine on sand and sand.

30 Jan 10

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