PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Reading the Water

Just rolled in from the beach at Sleazeville
where the seaweed had eyes that were
green like rust & blinking in the sunlight
It was rough trip back but with my left hand
tied to the steering wheel & my right
sliding up her thigh the road folded in on itself
like bad dream

I was thinking of reinventing
the Mariana Trench while strumming the
latitude & longitude of a crooked smile
              as though it might cure the common
yearning love leaves in its wake
                              as we’re still learning the shape the sky
              takes inside jagged cumulus smoke-rings
of haze & broken shadow wings that
rake the sand

Against the rippling glass of her monsoon palace
I wish a language that can’t be spoken
& a city of concrete sliding into the sea