an uptown scarecrow debuting

downtown birds, browses convexo-

concave storefront windows for

a costume.

stuffed with a sun's harvest of fully

lost hair.

more unfamiliar than any creeping or

flying thing.

venturing into daylight, where one

image winces into the form of all

images thereafter.

an odd vengeance running out of

paint, still wet--yet dry.

as a mouth's penchant for words,

once uttered, forcing the most

well-adjusted hypocrite to situate

Self.

just when it is shown to its very own

space...things unravel.

intentions are breaking their

backs while paving hellish paths.

the best of not saying at the height

of meaning, with no where to go.

even too final for the last push.

intersecting like crosses with

light speed visions of forsakenness.

wrought with the motions of what

is promised to pass--but does not.

left with the inability to sit with

breath, nor the poems it generates.

as all units of time are

being poured into the perfect

round of a black hole, relieved

of their span of standing.

a heart turns over in its deepest

sleep--knowing it has been

misunderstood at the most pivotal

moment.

where lifetimes met to be extinguished

by a love too glorious to withstand.

a droopy-eyed turtle

dove hangs from a

golden thread by its feet

like a  bat.

cooing to the draftiness

that knocks at the corners

of a room.

inflating the notes of its

tangential silences to cartoonish

size.

a redundant gradient helped to

bursting, by the freshest recruits

of an open crown.

intermittent death

gains on its gasp--

the way the mind

you thought you had

loses itself.

a grasshopper trying

to slice out of grass.

seated by the bedside of a

said street...a flower girl hunkers

down a misreading of color, that

claims family to spring's own.

Chaplin fidgets takes--wala, and it's

ramifying  light years in black &

white, yin and yang proposing to

one another at the same time.

rumpus of a penguin-footed mage.

production costs haunted by the

obsessive revisitation of a moment in

time, that only the right take could

liberate.

rheumatoid arthritis of bad directions,

as skyscrapers nicked by forwarding

motion.

a car door interrupts soundlessness.

the syllable of a first fold--emitting off a local

screen.

Charlie's obstinacy from the first flit of onscreen

voices.

the flower opens...the flower girl smiles.

more overpoweringly than she weeps.

supposedly confusing Charlie's purchase,

offering change to an unwitting elderly gentleman

that enters a car whose door slams, startling

cinematic history.

too spare for the things she thought she

couldn't see...

as it were, Charlie could not abscond

from the blind flower girl.

he actually fired and rehired the same

actress.

she finally doused him with a flower ***,

as he attempted to sit beside her.

as faces barge

in on their cellophane

wrapping...

a phenomenal candle,

an eastward giant melts

them slower  than WaX.

nothwithstanding.

crowing batches of light

on unfamiliar walls.