METAL GARDEN                       1982



I am in the metal garden.  Concentrating on the forced pressure
Of the milky silver nuclear wall.  There is velvet purple and peacock blue
With tongues of crimson, set in cold flame.  Such poisons and dank blood
In sweated dew, flesh dots and ghost blossom, surround the luminous grass.
Muggy filth hangs above, choked with clouds. 
All this close and muffling vegetation
And the humming rich sabres, combine to take over every sense.
~
On the forest carpet, small brown and black things move, 
Pecking at the earth.  They look ridiculous today, little feathered mice.
Flies steam in the air, lilac kaleidoscope, hooded yellow heads, 
Fibered tulips threaten, everything is pulsing and shines.
Compost melts digested, nourishes large pink ribbed snakes,
Ebony slime creatures, deathly evil and slow to live, 
They give up their useless struggle when salted.
~
Here the winged ones, stalk, hop and flutter amongst the weeds,
Old bulbs and tiny mosiac webs.  
It is a carnivore forest, a breathing entity.  
Caught in the sultry mists of this afternoon in a freak carnival,
A strange theatre for the weird.
~
And I grow, trapped into the desire to live here forever as any blazing flower.
Until riddled by insects, time and frost, to decay and from roots return.
I am in the metal garden-can't you see me?


///The prose of schizophrenia?  No drugs in this one, everything was exactly as described.
This feeling returned a few times, but never with as much strange intensity.
No idea why it was a metal garden, sometimes words just looked right next to each other...///