Sparkle Days
If there were one love then I would call it that.
Pickled burdock for his skin. The light is too
low on the latex leaves to see the dust you mentioned.
The loft was an old bar once, some drinking ceremonies,
a cabaret perhaps with velvet scarves and sparkles.
I am a citizen riding the G train to Lorimer with you.
A cat that looks like a mountain lion is staring us down.
Isa dropped him in the jail closet right before dinner.
Some laughter, inching closer,
a feast, Jo. Some listened to the speech interrupted
by a shout. We were silver and goodness
walking home with 5-feet of Pennsylvania milkweed. It was wrapped
in pale yellow paper tied with multiple twine knots. You carried it
over your shoulder with a smile.
Pickled burdock for his skin. The light is too
low on the latex leaves to see the dust you mentioned.
The loft was an old bar once, some drinking ceremonies,
a cabaret perhaps with velvet scarves and sparkles.
I am a citizen riding the G train to Lorimer with you.
A cat that looks like a mountain lion is staring us down.
Isa dropped him in the jail closet right before dinner.
Some laughter, inching closer,
a feast, Jo. Some listened to the speech interrupted
by a shout. We were silver and goodness
walking home with 5-feet of Pennsylvania milkweed. It was wrapped
in pale yellow paper tied with multiple twine knots. You carried it
over your shoulder with a smile.
posted by Todd Colby at 9:50 AM
3 Comments:
cornsilk in alcohol, beets fermenting, and a glittered adolescent watching obama while eating ripe mango
Were you there too?
there with bells on...
over the 5 foot shoulder with milky milky
dream weeds
silver and goodness
the jail lined
with velvet dust
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