Vincent's Page

Velour radiator, the home for flies and my compartments mattress
what an aroma the ghosts of feet and my immaterial relief
the bus is purring stationary still stuck in humidity custard
squished butterfly on windowsill, stuck dead from where it flustered
lay back and contemplate shoes in rack, "hot" expressed out loud
sweat glads rejoice in pools on back as cockroach runs the ground.

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Black blood from coffee bean bitters water in my cup,
lifted out the silver spoon to take the pungent sup
from its concave grimace, from its helter-skelter head
"what are you supposed to be, you look ridiculous" it said

"Im a teacher, a teacher" Im required to dress smart"
"A teacher" I repeated during aplomb's depart
spoon's lips came tightly wrinkled and a crease came to it brow
then blasting from it's face, there came a deadly laughing howl

"What I'm I supposed to do" I said with dismal ton… Continue

Who is the one that outpaced the hour, replaced the poles from where the fans were,
jogged from the track and ran his own chorus, leaped over remorse,jumped onto a horse?

where is the place that's cipher's a home, maps out the world with one toothless comb,
shears the curb and shepherds the wits, accommodates all to where the shoe fits

what is the feather that tickles my feet, lifts up the roots, takes rise from the peat,
rushing life's water under my pelt, puts holes in my belt, causes eager… Continue