if i should train my atoms to obey me; what should i say?
should i seek a form more fair or All form obliterate?
in my mind, living on a slow farm with morning tumbling from an orange void
like an unspeakable fire with an horizon for eyebrows  and clouds for thought balloons.
o summer in notorious causality like a twig on Pinocchio's nose
in a furnace of butterflies and intangible Japanese beetles.
glowing like a white lie to a black light. But my bones are open-
and scarlet is the fever that breaks against the coral between shores.
i amble in the undertow like an Olympic scarecrow
dashed about in balmy calypso with ****** eyes and deep effigies.
in my mind, i learn to swim in something to believe in
and consider living out loud with my galleries unafraid of scorn
and my mallets for clay bells
sworn to seek brass in a pewter cabal
of the thorn.