Third Eye Candy

Third Eye Candy Feb 2020

you dapper sprat, ladling curry and favor
over red beans at a price.
paper plate maven at the spark of her prime. soldering anvils to snowflakes
because heavy hearts are so last dead weight. you sing because you have to.
your books are volumes of non-starters, beginning at “ Once Upon a Mime “
but your body says nothing-wise. your flashlight is a droning confusion.
you haven’t an ****** that hasn’t had a problem made of someone Else.
that’s your Sun, grinning at the concrete.
your freckles amazing, but your lesions legendary. And
somehow you cope.
when your mask abandons your false start, you have a face-
for your every ending.
it looks like nothing you were looking for.
but everything you were after.

you film your ending with all
your beginnings
stopping the
show.

Until it Starts.

Third Eye Candy Feb 2020

ALL THE ALL GONE

pollute your feathers at your peril.
for the sky between scars is every unchallenged door.
and you are the symbol of that fear made flesh.
Life is Shorthand for “ Deal With It”.
our clowns are clumsy when the spotlights conspire
to illuminate the Jest. but we take the Stage
like Pirates made of stars… and weightless coupons.

All the all gone, comes back like a vengeful orca.
bloated with disheveled moons and temporal rifts
in the fabric of a Shroud of Turin.
we bleed where we stand for Nothing.
Sleep where Our Dreams are fitful with Awakening.
fumbling at Martian waterfalls, as we trade
the humidor for the Desert. happy as clams
in a pit of merciless flumes.
boiling with all the Irony of a good day
patched over the Hole
of Every Day.

Third Eye Candy Feb 2020

Barging Into A Rumination

on the stoop, I glue my tuckus to a plank of mundane as the Chevys cruise in the turquoise Tannebaum
of Twilight, churning shadows into velvet. I surrender when the fog’s kiss, lifts the Veil and I ponder It.
I choose where my dyslexia is a coin and barter for less dementia. serving silent things in the tapestry
of untapped maladies, masquerading as polymer gods in a hedgerow of impossible odds.
I fumble for my keys like the rest of you darlings… but my hands are made of dented chrome and dendrites unmanned by sanity in favor of an alcove of dauntless Awe.
I’m barging into a rumination, as we speak.
taking the hill of a landscape as a Sharkfin-
gloating in Existential Soup.
My egga roll, something less discreet
than Yellow Journalism
in a Lava Lamp
as Lovers
do.

Third Eye Candy Feb 2020

Glib DeMenthe Again

After falling in love, you have no cancer
save the weeping in your long dark heart-
dragged into This Situation.
like a glazed donut to a cop’s gob
on a rollercoaster, serving innocent villains
to infinite crimes of passionate Apathy.
Loadstones Akimbo. we gorgeous things have panthers
of naked scars and swarthy galactic dystopias…
bejeweling the heavy crown of a daily dread
spun like sugar into a megaphone
at last.

where our angels, glib de Menthe.

Third Eye Candy Jan 2020

there is no fortress in the sun

there is no fortress in the sun save the rain in your heart
and the alabaster reprisals of every comet in your dome
chumming the benthic oblivion with chew toys
and pond **** nailed to a rainbow.
there is no surface to breach. only the deep deep
and the overarching unspoken.
the free stars of bold silence
holding its breath like a poncho
holding the rain at bay.

Third Eye Candy Jan 2020

Barnabas Moth

we are the Barnabus moth in the flame of our contentious reality.
roiling in sunlight benighted. void harpies champing at the 8bit reservoir
of our discontent, relentless and buffoon. our comedies squat on the curbed rapture
of our indelicate illumination. all buddha huffing glitter often
in a dreaming canary’s pistachio garments
loaded with lost ghosts, that mostly pose as a threat
to skim milk. star funked by a torrent of unfortunate blessings.
gaining the last hill on a star
without a serpent.

all the time.

Third Eye Candy Jan 2020

Green

I have been green. I recall.
withall of my purpose burgeoning
in Blythe ponds of uncommon joy.
my yurts are open to closed snow
but nothing gathers at my feet
so much as the fumes of verdant dreams
polishing the banisters of our compass
with all the fervor of a slave-
to freedom… but having no moon
to conjure with
I have no sun
to barter.