swoosh and swirl i sway
the air convulses and contorts
pouring my limbs from one movement to the next
driving one mad with the slow moving power of the
strings
blow bubbles made of sand
and spill them upon the earth
with a sweet blowing breeze
similar to the chickens upon the ground
made of gold they eat gold
kernels
i am an axis of movement
a slowly rotating turnstile sparkling
in orange light drowning
time out of the hourglass
with the twitch of the inconsiderate wrist
bright red and gold the kernels fall into sifting
sand