four words:

synesthesia:

lick

the 

curtains.

~

back words:

clocks burn on the tongues 

of men in bars.

owls on the hours

bewitch, who? 

time’s sonatina is a

smooth spinal wallpaper,

or else a sweater carved from

cables. maybe hands

sped through the slush 

of yours, tuned

to channels only backs can hear.

owls on the hour, snowy doe-eyes.

parrots sing it in their sleep

everyone’s afraid to say 

they want a cracker.

~

on words:

falling asleep

in the tissues, in red tents.

passed out in bears —

no make-up on.

wrapped in the labyrinth of 

wild winter, sleep

ing with an “if” stuck on your tongue.

leap from tat to flat stomach

fat with people

to sleep with

how can i change your world today?

she asks, sarcastic

~

up words:

therefore the parrots jeff and jeff 2 speak in stenographic repetitions as inspired by the language of the woodpecker. yes the simple swish of sinking ships’s enough to make anyone sea sick. who’s gotta die for the meek to inherit a thing? last will, only solace. a heavenly wind possessed jeff and jeff 2. they spoke as parrot prophets seldom do, in waves of technicolor.  

who’s meek enough to win the world without first dropping their own name in the hat? who says “pathetic”. who cries into great glass windows. who sticks needles into veins and snorts crushed filaments. who’s brother slipped on a rock at sea. who’s brother drowned. who was raped in an apple orchard, raped in eden. who can see a thing through this silver toothpaste that stalls the ships.

who sent away for a mail order jesus, plastic hero. intentions lost to the packing peanuts of time.

 ~

afterwards:

awakened under blankets.

i dreamed i lured moths

in a perfect 

o. light

in the windows. light in eden

still, unconvinced the story is over

still, afraid of all we have to give,

we break bread and toss our offerings to temples.

the temples lower their beaks to meet us. our friends

would never believe us.