Distorted Traveller
on the Corner-
you sweat beneath that damn blanket map
always to fear,
rarely to sweeten embrace with Sound Awareness of We
the Transitory
You needn’t be extraordinary.
You have the words to be Free from viciousness,
though you swallow them
whole with basil,
with sea salt and marinara,
with red glass bone bits.
On my knees,
to beg you
Quit tugging your petals bare,
buying muffled, pastel, small things to be
part of the Big Shop
with the glimmering fluorescents.
Light dreamers,
rational sleepers,
do not own the world.
Do drag your feet, and
Distorted Traveller
on the Corner-
jeez, will you put my shoulders to use?
PLUTO BLOOMING 