did you ever see
heatwaves dancing on a horizon?
isn't this tree-mendous that empty can seem full
a filmed capture, but much more
flows through scopic-head turrets
turbulent, but tnt -- electric slide

boom shack-a-lack a - flitter, flutter, fuzz--
to recycle rubbish and open my light-gates
for the sight of a muckle of maple tree
blends flame-boyant with the gorgeous
ooh-la-la --dada my gawd, how?

the nurse head-tripper can digest prisms into
a whirl, a dance, a sway, untied
springing into her pleiades
she, who knew my wrist-cuffs
which hung her orange curly head
but now
flowering

the kid
at thirteen, lounging in the canadian dome car
feasting on
wholly absorbed desire from
trees, a lake, a mountain, a smile
--glow, gleam, rise up, my sparks
into her fiery seraphic flames--
but all too early
the nay say nugatory calls--
spike 'em







3.5 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson