The time is ripe
for planetary alignment and surprise spinal taps
Something in the rustling-leaf-breeze
that builds shadow mountains
in the tectonic cirrus trees
binds my pieces
into gently locking creases
a labyrinth
resembling whole again
if there was anything, i suppose,
that could re-inflate my senses...
it would be the arcanum struck beauty of
(Herbst-Automne-Otone)
the birds are squealing
cylinder wire exchange complaints
back.and.forth.
up.and.down.
vertical tower,
catch and release sound
and I'll admit-
as I sit, steaming and simmering
in chai black and green-
(staring at the loaded aisles in indecisive dismay...
this is one obsession I don't mind admitting)
that instead of thinking
"I don't remember the last time someone bought me flowers
just for the hell of it."
I conclude
Why the hell not?
and now I'm beaming,
contentment emanating,
at the golden sprayed wine bottle covered in EKG evidence
(who will monitor my pulse now?)
now filled with blood-orange dahlias
Pain is weakness leaving the body
but I think weakness can be sexy
and we all need a mouth full of vanilla pudding from time to time.
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