Reminisce

Just a note

here to tell you that

I’m coming back

just this once

from outer space

to tell you how I feel

My-cocked Wings abundant

I with all golden locks am

for no other reason than

the beginning of time

here to tell you that

without a doubt for the remainder

of history all sword blades

are Goldenrod and steel

are Rose, Copper, petal and stone

I’ve marked a stone so that

for all intensive purposes

without further concern I am

to note that paper is bullets

mango a Japanese Geisha

that without a doubt as

aforementioned earlier nectar is the left

And right ventricle of Gold, capillaries electric

Now! for further information, consult the Kiosk

and for further discussion

note how the stars taste like ice cream

how bolstered insects scurry like supermarkets

how when provoked a beaver smells

of Gunpowder like the Moon

of promises which incidentally often

smell of lavender and taste of sandalwood

or of nuclear reactors and stale cheese both of

which have a lime-scale chemical aroma

not all too different from Rotting new office smell

and that if touched on the peak of the vein, the sting

of the heart is a sword and goldenrod her

floral counterpart, that dance sounds like

trapeze artists who often look like,

and I do mean just like, the beginning

of a movie, the descent of the lights

the thrill of knowing That Tonight you’ll have

Sex, And that that looks like dawn the morning

after Hiroshima that that feels just like

standing on the last new untraded plot

of land in the Naked-heart of darkness the center

of the desert the soul of black footed

accidentally missed clubface, the soul

of the desert that incidentally crumples like banana bread

that dissects like solar flares, whose cross-section

appears as an etch-i-sketch across the lateral

visual cortex of the mind, which taste and acts

(a rare parallel) like Jello-mold, fruit chunks and all.