Maps in the morning

by Blue Bandit

Posted to Action Poetry on 2004-07-11 03:49:00

Don’t speak to me of dragon wings
Or contour lines left unseen
Or trip and tumble into my dreams

I scrapped my design
Looked out your eyes and into mine
I’ll crawl your zebra breath
A-top hills and mountains unchecked
A River-sea, river-be you …

To lance your drifting window,
You’re night kite of unadulterated sight
Entangled in the keyhole of lost souls
Would color us melons be in the morning …

Lift up your devil tree
Leaves wrought and trot for free
Brown and golden in the summertime- aire
A-waken green with turpentine- here

A bird scales the bricks next to us,
It happened to you …

Visit me in letter form
Something closer to the norm, and grow,
Don’t slink down right beside
Or down the hide of the 17th century,
Or the lily of the Ice Age: III
Cloud me more conventionally,
Without time wielding autocracies

Don’t yield to me of broken hearts
Or cuts and pains of Chinese darts
Rearrange me to a gentle degree,
(I’m surprised you’d even mention me …
In your dreams; at least so genially)
Come to me, and one way please,
Just be sure to make it harness-free