PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Beer Helmet

The clouds are breaking apart,
the sun slips through,
the floor needs sweeping.

Madame Bovary signals from across the street.

It’s like a midnight movie at
high noon
flicker of wings maybe
seashells & cigarettes,
eye shadow & motor oil. A pair of
rose-colored goggles for the night crew.

I am assuming a monastic recalcitrance
falling like an ornamental plum tree
when no one’s looking

which is why I am telling you about it

the x-factor like funk & circumstance

gathering up all your dark veins