crust

I wake two

a leaf of many colors snapped

from a twig

that bellows in middle air for a spin

or two

or three

inhale, exhale as eye watch it pendulum

on colorless, tasteless 

atomic gas

in winter fall, it lays

coloring the grounds

with psychedelic beams of skeleton forms: green,

burnt red, and gold 

children rifle through the bush,

like bullets in the night

of dreams or make believe

eye linger on two changing

kaleidoscopic mirrors from icicles with sharp edges

and cut through the burning desire of sun-filled

atmospheric pressure:

of right and wrong

he said/she said

left or right

do or die -

"take your ice pick and move along" spill

the multilingual whispers

vaporizing in my minds eye...resonating,

into tears of ignitable anger or joy

as they drip from my eyes

and form into

daggers

of

reason and consequence.