Into the Ear

Sandwiched in summer splicing open at the seams
wish you could see the chakras as they dilate and spin
names out of their meanings and break anticipation down the spine
wouldn’t it be funny if a sign spinner was greeting his or her own downstairs
with a pin in a cushion to unscrew a cap
witness the day a born-flesh flap
evacuate decay and leave the grass green
trees smell of a skunk a stalking blade of weed
throat cuts through mimics sand in between
each stride to crack through the vase of the skull and
speed into thoughts circle through spin glint riding
glimmers off soot sheltered people find in a daze
dizzy daisy rotating corners with scissors in mountain-mouth
counting problems into the ear


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