Flesh wears goosebumps Tender skin sings through the dyke "Oh what a lonely sort am I!" Lupine phantoms breathe Alarmingly on the spines of those Whose conjurations dwindle Mouths loft weary hopes Onto a tempestuous sea of misunderstanding Lost like SOS bottles among a crystalline briny Hot air metamorphoses to glass Whims shatter upon coalescence The falling shards slice sexy and deep Hands twitter about Like birds' with paintbrush wings Imprinting their elsewheres and meanwhiles on empty space Embittered warlocks cast maledictions Directed at those who reject superstition And Bolstered by witches' autoerotic cackles Legs execute jigs for support Pantomiming abstract plates their brain feels Neath their Fort gorges and Saint mountains On a flat, arboreal dance floor Feet stomp out Armageddon In rapture and fear and grace and morse code Tesla coil noggins jingle jangle jolt Supine skeletons who boogie Like jive Jesus receiving capital punishment Guys and gals get gone through galvanism The recipe, lost in the air, found through the spirit Brims over tablespoons and eludes creeds Holy stank percolates through departing skin And sacred sweat slides between cause and affect Lonely chillins appear and disappear again Behind hospital curtains of groove And kitschy tapestries of dream jive All awake in poses of piercing now And then return to somnambulist haze In whimsical spasms of humbled wow All exit stage left and dwell On the possibility that sets and scenes May be as volitional as their manic players All recall placental scripting And celestial lighting cues And the orchestra of silence All leave uncertain, dreaming None leave sovereign, or with grace None leave with whole truth For none realize They have not left a party But arrived at a boulevard And the now slides past their Callous, hardened, awed ego-shells With no crevice for truth to dock
Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790