crust
I wake two
a leaf of many colors snapped
from a twig
that bellows in middle air for a spin
or two
or three
inhale, exhale as eye watch it pendulum
on colorless, tasteless
atomic gas
in winter fall, it lays
coloring the grounds
with psychedelic beams of skeleton forms: green,
burnt red, and gold
children rifle through the bush,
like bullets in the night
of dreams or make believe
eye linger on two changing
kaleidoscopic mirrors from icicles with sharp edges
and cut through the burning desire of sun-filled
atmospheric pressure:
of right and wrong
he said/she said
left or right
do or die -
"take your ice pick and move along" spill
the multilingual whispers
vaporizing in my minds eye...resonating,
into tears of ignitable anger or joy
as they drip from my eyes
and form into
daggers
of
reason and consequence.