Thursday, April 15, 2010

Sonnet 50: Morning Primordial

By Aurin Squire

Me popsicl'ed under green flower spread
Turning over, even my blue freeze tan
Pipes mute choked by dead finger lead
Basement boiler coughed winter in a can.

Cracked ribs xylophoned cross wood crucifix
Head twist like a red devilsans green soup
Me lay holy hands on pipes still unfix,
Hibernate metal bears jumbled in group.

Spread cheeks and winny a high-pitched sharp gas
mumble, stutter, shuffle to the water.
Mirrored down me face and gave it a pass
Dark shroud on city, 6 pass a quarter.

Open mouth and let out a growly sing.
Good Morning primordial functioning.

No comments: