Stranger Glaciers
The stiff and warped hands
Of the paralyzed farmer
shine
as he soaks the clouds in kerosene.
Heartbeat
(the sound of silver sparks)
Main Street
(mouse bones fall from the sky)
I am the fallen man bunking with the loafers
but according to the soldiers, I am the aggressive sleeper
dreaming of ghosts and crocodiles with blowfish teeth
Once I appeared with an ellipse on my tongue
and collapsed
Into a stranger in the elevation of angles:
An eye (out) walking statues,
Sometimes I whisper,
"this sentence is made of floating gray dew
and broken flowing spider webs, mixed in a mirage
of a cauldron made of mirror"
Sometimes I whisper,
"Hare Krisna" to animals.
Colliding in mantras of steam I danced with handfulls of ants,
too.
Stranger, the yellow entanglement is dusk
In the back of a setting stagecoach.
It's barrel of songs slosh 'round like a belly full of trails,
But I barely remember them.
It was only the end coming,
decked in bronze tracers
with the speed of a mule.
Afros of tumbleweed stuck in the fence
As the stranger headed toward the sky
wringing the flames from the flaming clouds of imagery
Soaking the peasants with no eyes
Maybe
You have an old photo of some beer bottles
Sittin' on a farm fence
And you take out your six shooter
And fill the photo full of bullet holes
You'd snort the shackles of this sentence
You know, falling and landing around you,
dissolving
like snow in the desert.