zafusy

One foot in the mucus of the Garden of Eden,
Dufus is my living love, my blue symmetry
shoes shattered in the mind of legendary speech.

Electronic signals shot through a pencil that
becomes warm brown as Egypt on the old paper
where epilepsy of form says it all. From.

I kiss your radio waves and dumb pulse.
Regions of infernal sound make me feel real
but your real sentences make me fall asleep.

Columbus is just a discolored dove. Stone.
What strikes the ear is a dippy discipline
crawling through my setae. Vivacious crayfish.

Burnt cream. A pardon to the migrant soul
which found itself swarming without. Eggs under.
Today you are stainless, the head’s dulse.

W.B. Keckler

View all poems by W.B. Keckler