Yellow spotted
orchid-smelling
pebble, why aren't
you blue?

Black frogs
with neon
stripes cuddle
my thick, dry
tongue.

Where has the fruit bird gone?

Red hands
from picked cherries;
Womanhood loves me.

Digest zebra leaves
from fern trees if
no pink salt is found
in green or grey eyes
of spider monkeys.

I want sand toes
standing hair
and finger spheres
spinning on touch.

Keep your triangles
but give me your dressless
dog and two teeth
from the back
of your gum.

What I mean
is like furniture
but I have no home.
My house has a home.

I am home
and also a couch.

The bonobo baked
more banana bread
in four stone ovens.

Made monkeys
unhungry but her brick
bungalow became
so smokey.

Enter;
please yellow
seas who loved you
as you were young and
thirsty.

Sunrise
kissed white cap
tips but only left
my back warm.  Backwards
Mama.

Miss moon
she thinks we're
the silliest
I'd have to agree
you see,

fishes
probably
see water like
oiled asphalt on
sunrise.

I've got three lizards
living without any names.
While it's hot and dry.

You've got thirty days;
You live in Alaska, friend.
Where do I begin?

See, I have got three
tiny green men following
my shadow all day.

When it's dark and damp
well, they won't tell me their names
they just crawl away.

Living in the snow
well, it doesn't make any sense.
Where do lizards go?

Are you aware
of the music you make, Cricket?
Can the grass be ticklish to your toes?
Tickled like trapped foes.

Toads and toad bumps.
Frogs salted on salted Slugs.
Creamer for the chocolate night,
Are you alive?

Sentimental over fingerprints,
my wings wandered
three centuries ago.
Where they went nobody knows.

Three lights captured in my eye:
one is the bedroom
one is the trumpet
one is the theatre

Hip bones have red suns.
Flowers crawl on skyscrapers.
Barns and bugs with spotted bellies.

Cracked a mirror on my foot,
wish it stayed the evening
and for supper.

Could have gone home
but instead, harvested Winter
in Mexico.

Round wheels found
patterned, pebble pavement
opened Heaven
and white walls.

Who were washed, dropped
brown mud crowns broken
on soft breathing ground.
It's not loud.

Color from clay,
(my dearest sulfate)
I'll wash away three days
one glass with sparkling diamonds
drops I cannot catch.  Fingernails
orange and chipped, I sip

waste six more days
but saved my veins, still
dream of trains.
I think of engines, coal
and triumphant triangle
iron.  Trains have
become much more
than that.

CTA and there's no Racoon
roadkill.  White walls
around pink stink, black drops
of gum beneath me.

Maybe in daisies, I believe;
mosquitos and flies
I wear pants.  I've got
less eyes and more lies
than that.

Just trust the jeweled beetle bug.

My slip with it's sins
I can't unzip, wash nor twist
but learn to live as is.