there was something to

sidestepping a book of:

Yellow Pages.

on a scratch of sidewalk--right

after a long soaking.

that yellow tome stuffed with

contacts--wanting to crumple

like a napkin.

no helium...a full-bodied, hundred foot

Frankenstein.

drunkenly leaning forward--with hands

that look as if they're set to strangle.

guest-appearing at: Macy's Day Parade.

ill-fitting black suit jacket, overblown

shoulder pads--spewing said hands at the wrist.

prominent fade marks at the back, that spread

down to highwater black pants.

meeting 19th century Dutch clogs.

two-ton screws spinning in his temples.

his stitches splitting apart, against plum-purple

confetti...

analogous smears

of last-seen birds,

on the headband of

dusk.

wrapping around

a dispensing third eye.

Da Vinci's thrice-grace

inkage, of a likened

fetal-pod.

supplanted in care

of a belly.

overly still with the

behavior of pain.

readying for this world.