she speaks myth by the fireside(i caught a glimpse)

lands pathless
invisible
to two eyes naked


she scrapes
the protestant spurs
of my bones to produce
pixie dust

follows the solemn
rhythm
she does break dance

heathen

ritual to kiss
the distance
between
much greater than can
be conquered
by internal combustion

a dervish
she told me the story
of how
she had once managed
to kiss the sky

said i reminded her
of the time

goodbye kiss
left
in turn
some of it on my lips
adieu

she wore a flowing coat
open over
white skin
naked

held pictures of things
celestial written
i sometimes remember
with
waking eyes open
what was written
there

midnight rain a slow roll
of lollygag thunder
larger than life
mythe absence in substance
moisten
the pores
of the sandman clogged
in reminiscent cognition

finally
they open
he come
sometimes while waking
walking in a
head aching
snare drum roll like sub machine gun
exacerbating hemingway’s fishing line trembling

at the point of breaking
my mind
hot butter
oppressive nature of water
drowning
somewhat
watching earthworm crawl in the rain damp sand

i paint images
the underside of optic nerves crawling with
ants that worship tim and andy
not quite visible
slightly palpable
he speaks of things that will be
in whispers
but sings of things forgotten
once washed away