The Whole in a Hearth
In Home- Sea is cotton.
Comfortable and calm
-calcium- warm.
Woolwood woven and wasted monuments
And hooded secret dust
Freemasons gather at the base of
Pillowed-quilted and stack-cushions
Of towering basalt fortresses
Touched steel;
Golden and black foraging intricate corners
Fitted and inviting corners, key-lock corrals
Rounding a hearth of glistening moist velvet.
And strung-yarn sinews cling to
Load bearing chalk-beams and iron books.
There is appearantly damage
Circling above, but it all seems
So recon-trite.
And doors and locked doors and glass doors...
And isn't all glass
Plasma screen. Cutable clear putty
Screens. and the shower curtain
Can never seem to stay clean. I think
It does it on purpose.
There are complete libraries of bowls,
And the stories are Seared
Needlepoint delicately onto polite fruit
Peels that have long since
Over-rippened
And sugarcrusted
And soured.
Nectarines, guava, grapefruit,
Plummed, persimon, and honeydew rinds.
The accordian whale{wale}bone and
Nomad's skeintint transmigrating
From elk to carabou to...
Then lay like British campaign furniture
Where the sun never set. There are hexes
And poxes and scalped monkey curses
Between the lathing and plaster, and
I WILL NOT Put my hand
in that hot emptiness - ever - again.
There are purcusive symphonies hidden
Festive and fleeting underfoot,
But heard. Nervous shin pistons
Pulse-power all on ,
Everything all on...
And a hair dryer that harangues more than hums.
And a furnace which is also
The camera operations manual,
Which the circuitbreaker,
Which is the cookbook,
Which is the feather,
Which is the splinter and saw,
Which is the ability...
And it "expands to encompass every new idea...
And it is unable to shrink back to it's original size"
There may be scars, dings,
And dents on it are facets-
They're called Cut-Clarity-Color
And there are Carrots
And the laws of geometric organization
Do not apply. Physics is merely one "theory"
Among the thousands.
