NO IFS OR BUTS, ONLY ANDS

I want aggressive steeples and dilated apples.

Travel me there, golden burro in a blurry hat.

A narthex of litigious bugs follows me instead.

Someone cradles my head from far off with long,

Long arms. I’ve devoted my life to pisciculture,

Finally. Piston of me goes bludgeoning. But I like

Everything! This and that door says, Life Is Hard,

But my steps through the garden are gigantic!

Sunflowers are ripe with the seed of ancestral lions!

My seven uneducated dragons are bitter regarding

Their fortunes, and can you blame them! My hair

Is loops of live tigers resuscitating! Each pinprick

Reveals a new eye in my splendid skin, marvelous

Pie bringing out the Fungoid. Failure like nervous

Houses lathers me over. Trees of disappointment—

Urgent, pharmaceutical, farming the patriarchy

—Mop up the lather. It’s true, this lollipop future,

Just as my unshackled head galumphs eloquent

As wine, working for its keep in the haystacks

(Haystacks, I see you, you spiritual virgins).

Latinate logic stews in my plum. Lines crisscross

The world, a child running with bright yarn.

Thunder is my keeper. I’m in the porchlight

With the muskrat, who steps into the circle of time

With no clothes on, no candle to touch the sea.