I hear something like a blue light, but synesthetics have not been
A skill set much developed & I don’t think that even foaming horses
Into glue will stick us stuck. Love notes lost somewhere in the backwoods
Of Alabama, another Midwest, another Chicago, where I might be next-
Door, borrowing your sugar & not just sweet powder but
Your lips in a cup, my heart under your welcome mat for safe keeps,
Your window half open so the bigger things won’t get in.
I’ve shrunk a whole lot this year, I fit snug, I roll
In and around your bear rug to soak in what I can
From the crackling base of the chimney, the wood breaking
Beautifully, your legs crossed and the shadow is dancing my face off.
I let things go & smolder. The sentences just run on for miles or never come.
Blank pages are the best friends I have seen since June; mostly voices
Are where the ghosts of my butterfly wings flutter to.
The line is often quiet on your end & what stories are there
To tell that allow a beetle permission into the castle? No one
Wants to see anything that rolls in shit for a living &
I have been laying in the same bed I forget to make
& it is mine to froth within; nightmares like mating dances
For boogie men, like the line to snap already.
I heard the green go, and the snow melt all the way from here.
I know how hard it is to want a chunk of something gold
But the Earth is not keen on blowing itself to bits just to get lost
In a couple years, maybe end up in a small box sitting inside a small room
Behind vault doors hooked aside the tiniest financial institution
East of Shreveport, but your illumination turns the mountains kamikaze
And me along with it so put the fuse in, light it one last time.
It will catch and fizz unrelenting. You won’t be still much longer -
The whole of the planet might collapse under the ricochet
And together everyone’s enemies and our warheads will plummet
Like bees into satellites or prayers onto ears deafened by a series
Of plagues and disappointing data from experiments that took a wrong turn.
It took made me three lefts to get back to you the right way.
Maybe you won’t keep my pages white much longer. Technicolor my
Whole week, bubble up my weekend, tourniquet what ghosts are left
And usher a breath from the north directly into the bloodstream by
Any means necessary; I need you to tell me what it will take
To keep me from failing you anymore. I will start rhyming,
Sing out in iambs: to you a lullaby, a black arrow
To soar Chicago the whole way through red, my scent stuck on
So all the dogs will know I am coming when I am coming.
And I am coming just as soon as you put the damn fuse in & fizz.
Keep me unquiet, hurl me out of windows, pull my socks off with both hands
Before bed so I don’t lose them between clean sheets but
Most importantly, above all else: I have been hearing colors for two months
Like the color of angels sounds awful, & the color of your space
Is symphonic but quiet, it’s the wind around corners, the snowbank
No one saw coming (but I heard it alright, I heard it). Sounded
A whole lot like the fizz of a fuse you finally found fit to blast,
You my little hunk of gold, somewhere in the snow, why will
I never find you? Glimmer for me. I do not know where to put
You if you decide to shine; I don’t know if anything I have is bright enough.
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