Good days know how to dance

The alchemist falls asleep burping old hymns.

Metal skin shaped burning gold steam.

Steps of leviathan creep over our eyes.

 

Backing away from the iris humid-glow

 

just some honey pictured in a storm

And many miles left until home

a heavy sleep dancing awake friends

 

Like a mislaid smile in the grass

and a hope in the next day’s sojourn

 

Ten maddened worlds boom under the tongue released into no emotion

 

Because then the alchemists war would be slain

and the freshness of memory would yoke our blood still

 

Reversing the rain back-up-a-ways and back into God’s two black eyes

like a rail gun of bullets shedding down into snowing red sea

 

In this awakened sleep, the writhing of this alchemist come

in the furrows of traffic weaving dusk all day, and before

 

An electric charge within peaceful hands walking to work

letting loneliness be alone, and i feel the moor’s wind, like that

 

The miracle of this human swim, the joke that the courtiers shuffle

between themselves, as broken castles attract tourists

 

And the market’s their flies

and your spine lays near my chest

enough in its length

to let me know

i am here

 

The geezers of your mouth

wind-falls christening globes within data

old hay choking spiderless thoughts of running dogs in mania

and waving hands near there snout! and maybe

we get around to declaring madness

as a state of its own, both its own island and engine an honest place of dance

that declares simple war against the noxious, unmeasured chaos lines of gloom

 

madness that soft punch

without ribs, years on calmer than clerks working on steaks

the havoc reeked, the havoc loved, bestial urging dove

staring up from the frenzy of calm desert heat

 

nocturnal and daylight feeling of knowing you have no weight

that the gulls are hawking without animosity

that our showers over-flow with alchemic notions

like every sea cries to the farmers of maritime laughter

pieces of binary, shot along a tray of wet DNA cocktail.

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