Thursday, April 28, 2011
I took my eyes out of my head and set them in cups, like eggs.
Look at them, I complained.
They are like library lions, guarding the doors from the steps,
And the steps are sinister,
I seek the sun inside an egg shell,
I don't even tap with my wrench,
Like the heavens over a corn field at night...
But it is the corn field in motion,
Not the stars.
My baby is blind.
How my eyes sit paired, set before the morning with a linen napkin lying next to them, an adored and lazy lover.
Splay fingers in empty air like prayer.
Sense the scion settling in,
Wearing a summer suit,