when wisdom grew a beard on fickle trees
in woods of shaded argument
melancholy holly leaves on abandoned pastures old
on circus dust where juggles the succulent taste of liver stooping low;
countless waves of squandered paragraphs
between pages where rages the assassins flute of chance
sings the eyes of the bottled and battered sheepskin spy
in the slipstream of the grounded metaphor
in triumphant march with hares above the landfilled mass
swells the melted ice of the dragonflys\' bastard child;
through hives of tainted chives with tortured chicken wire
with funeral food for the confounding pounding on deaths open door
still we wait for the blossoming bride in her pumkin dress and something borrowed blue;
aborted gods in packets of assorted imperial arms
charms the father of the farming kettledrums wayward poltergeist.
a heist for the apple of adams love for the punctured pictured lawn
a seagull each for the duelling nostrils for the heart of early dawn;
when wisdom grew a beard on fickle trees
in woods of shaded argument
we tiptoed with our horses feet through the skull of hercules;