Mash-up for Cobra

TO MOTHER TROUT

You came to us dancing in feathered stockings. We bring you five claws. One soft. One visible fingernail like a nevus in a pine tar sky. A finger sweeps the public frosting. Nature now dry trees and replication and dead birds keep flattening on paintings— Venus roller skates while steering the stroller and the dog walker limps and has twenty-four legs. Exploded heavens. Anatomies of rats in the street—morsels and a mouse remain. Light particles. Nervous gleaners take a sleepwalk around midnight. Take a gander at the air.

I diagram the firmament –nine elephants steady the atmosphere.
I cease
to look behind your prefrontal cortex
to stomp in the hollow
between the rattlesnake
and the peacock.
I hear you.

TO WOLF PANTS

She fan-dances with an implied hum as we coax her by rattling our sun-dried and seed-filled gourds.
Vowels and shakere! Until electric crimson shakes each dangling lobe. Leaves and feathers. Seeds fall into uniform blue emptying. Loveless vessels.

we vow
solo love
we see
love solve loss
else we see
love sow woe
selves we woo
we lose
losses we levee
we owe
we sell
loose vows
so we love
less well
so low
so level
wolves evolve
— Christian Bök



TO LILY

With polished scales
I am she
waking.

Render: a lotus afloat the mise-en-scene. Consider: the gamelan complementing this diegesis. Sink in. Lily ovulates near svadhisthana chakra. Undulating vines—serpentine. Skating unfrozen body. Stalks appalled at her armature uncoiled. Beneath a glass sheet of chlorophyll. Succulent green— no, yellow blossoms. Reflecting the historical trajectory of clouds. Substitute an immmmmmpressionist palette for aphoristic affect. Implement color, comma, conjugate light tissue. Smoothly encased concubine. Cake on calcite. Make icing-face. Purse your lips for pucker power and kiss her to coagulate. Not ravenous for root vegetables just crushed out on the ground whilst the Monkey God leaps over the ocean.
The Sun God erupts through cirrus wisps and our Chieftainess smokes
a cornhusk pipe with tattooed lips rapt in velvet contemplation. Pigeons peck at chicken drumsticks. Eyeing me. I see cave paintings embellish my stomach walls and will please our occipital lobes stretched over a cannibal’s drum today.