You grind
   my yellow cactus
Like an asphalt pomegranite
You slime into my universe
  Like you are not of this planet
You guage my tumbling body

Many fireworks try to chameleon
   The colors bright
But you enter my daytime tea
Like you are of the nite
2 men ******* and you blame the doctor

By spoken word transmits you to lay
Under the gun of my evolution ladder
Sniding God for the interlude in which you play
Screaming geese beckon to your strange turning psychosis
I have all these ribbons and sellotape

I suppose there are many radios in Spain
I guess that my jive-box is a measurement of pain
Tourists chat and snap poloroids
Just a normal day.

In tired spirals we graph our days
In colored stains we speak our shaky hands
Rubbing white shirts on the chalk board to
make tie dye tees

Two sets of teeth licking molars
smelling their breath over
half smoked
cigarettes

The feeling of being caught in the rain
with nowhere
to go

I once saw a field so green it could be an aphid
I once saw a sky so blue it could be a puddle
ink stains sit and blur and muddle
together again

Words pressed out of a pomegranite
it could be any
but they turned out to be
yours