Orion

Creep into my hand and I will show you what skin looks like.

This is a leech of a town

Where all the women swap putty for lungs

and smoke Van Gogh

With the kind of irregularity

it takes to tie your shoes with cat intestine.

 

You look like you belong in a field with crows

Or a Dalai Lama caught under the prism of twisted light

But doll-

Do take that as a compliment

For you have no idea where my mind has been-

 

I have found myself in many dreams

Picking up the ash of all these picture frames

While the images run off with the people they once

Godfathered out of time.

 

You come pin-balling around that corner with the eyes of a prophet

All chalice-fanged and droopy

Ready to gut and skin even the soul of Orion.

 

The clouds

As if someone played marbles 60 feet too high

Loaded with sulfur and blow and BANG!

...Blood weather...

 

My mind’s been robbed of all its metaphors

And my thoughts of all its gears

And my dreams have been stripped

Like curtains off a bed post in the middle of another obnoxious f**k

And all I can think of is- you.