To The Birds
At no hour am I lost.
Save these fatted hens! It’s a go on the apocryphas,
God’s a basket of elephants playing with an abacus –
People are hangers.
Yesterday my mother and I were bound by a fruit loop,
At night she told me to rip roar.
And you awake me,
Lusty I vibrate as you put the air back in my mouth.
Come, I say, I want to spoil you.
Since you came in
I’ve been a little more lonely
Every time I’ve been alone,
Crying at the unmatched clothes:
Blind it’s all blind and a dark sigh singing breaks an appending blow a beet bringing and a blue thing not a diamond but a black thing, a blue thing and a black thing.
But when will something legal retoxicate me,
I think of what to say too late and let it go
Words though grown go unnoticed.
My outside hasn’t met my inside;
They try real hard I guess.
The slobbery lungcases killed in coolness, they wear soot.
Birds finally assert themselves and are the sky
A million pecking hopefuls but what chance have they lotted,
I haughty have never wanted a ‘chance’ anyway, nor got it.