poems and poems-in-progress

Thursday, August 21, 2014

His Reactive Attachment Disorder

My eyelashes hurt.
La Tour Eiffel screws itself
into recollection.
The cork bleeds.

Dream comes in
first, wins
by a landslide.
I'm the dish

who runs away
with a moon
half my age.
Pearl sovereignty,

where is thy luster now?
Pillow walk the walk.
Marshmallow spaghetti,
the cat is on fire

showering in kerosene.
His false self shadows
proximate innocents,
that mother

throws dragnets
which wend every
witch way
into the hellfire void

of here and now
and then and later
after and whether
or not.