Wearing out shoes in my sleep,
I walk along the right angled
curvature of implied spaces.
Stopping to smell the roses,
their bushes have dog biscuits for leaves –
the thorns, are the mourning dove’s call.
Knotty cabbages –
such fine billows bugle outward,
Feathers fall slowly,
turn to grains of sand, bleeding –
trombones’ sleeping eyes .
Saltation ‘s shoreline –
glass harpsichord’s kiss slips by,
jellyfish rumba .
Whispering willows –
tooth paste tap dancer steps out,
coral cormorant .
Lounging out the door –
now creep pages without words,
peckish cranky oust.
Wings of cow dung hit –
a lento, cavalier stars,
a corpuscle of soil –
sandwiched between fast seconds,
soles slide past boughs of strange sheep .
Be prepared for sharp turn ahead –
watch for falling molluscs & steam tractors,
summon superlative hexagons,
small blacksmith artifacts.
Old Woman Moon laughs
as the bridge spins platitudes of pudding.
The hive is now full of tranquil ditties
sharpened on spider silk.
Finally, defoliate whine glasses
as the silence seeps into the toes.
NOTE: All images are from my archive on Dark Pines Photo. Clicking images will take you to original posts (opens in new tab). Stanzas are a mix of free verse, haiku, and tanka. Many thanks.