[Ode to [AA] Batteries] [Nightfishers and Nitpickers]
grown in the Southern climes of oh
let us say China.
through its guardian forest with the dull side of your blade
until you reach the garden --
Be bold but wary.
For they lie in the tall grass,
tigers treading on flowers.
Clash! Claws! Teeth will tangle with the blade
through and through.
pain cannot exist without pleasure.
Because as they say, it takes two to tango.
Yesterday an Egyptian priest found Ra
and lost himself in slitted gold eyes that
carried his soul to here, Today.
Asleep, dragons teach you their skin by touch
so that in the waking world what first seems
mere fish scales, will never fool you as such.
Our dreams as a neurological rhyme
and our dragons built from subconscious strife
and tigereye never a door to another time.
But for me it's all Egyptology
versus historical accuracy.
Your flamingo nested just so in fresh dug
petunias! Since I don't do Ash Wednesdays
how could I pass your whitewashed door
when such antiques grow here. Then my wild hair
struck. As you have clearly good taste in silver
lawn ornaments and fences and blooms, madam,
please partake of my backpack. Splitting hairs
is what I do best -- let me see -- digging --
By the way, hello! I live next door.
My wife and I moved in this Wednesday.
really? Well waste not, want not, find silver
as they say. Truely. I am not a door
to door salesman sent to rob you, madam,
of body, soul or credit card. And dig
as you please - Conditioner for perm hair?
but consider! Reflect on the Wednesday
Adams action figure in your palm or dig --
further? Many things for free, not silver
coin. I wouldn't ask for money, madam,
because I do not like to sell door to door
through my sunglasses, and blinds me by a hair.
My wife and I were cleaning house, madam.
We separated on a Wednesday
last month but made up weeks ago, in silver
rain. How romantic it was, just digging
give you: night vision goggles for indoors,
moonshine pens paper ingots of silver
still wrapped in plastic under the sheep hair,
and herbal candles to delight Wednesday's
woebegone nose. And did you know, madam
on your garden fence door, why, on Wednesday
a silver werewolf can play nice, madam.
Fingernails like seashells turn the page.
A fisherman shares solitary company with breadcrumbs, a friend and a book.
On a boat, reading like this, he doesn't feel the world turn.
If he chose to look up he'd see a clear, cold night
spread across the sky like a net cast
under the currents,
with so many starfish caught in its strands.
Instead he reads aloud to his friend.
-- To see, surely you mean 'to sea?'
-- Delirious and drowning and you expect this guy to spell correctly?
