Of All I Owe The Very Least

of all I owe the very least

to drum and drink a flesh-soup ball

at the loose end of the dry earth.

chrome fleas of the rushed sleep

as a silent thunder drains my sleepwalk snare

scouting tresspass on the almonds of the dull weed steer

scaling the antlers of the stray stag on my limpimg wrist;

of all I owe madfellows, pillows and pears

airing caution through the sinus of their chain

tapping the waters of their loins.

no more a summer dressed in winter thyme

more a delicate wreath for the hammer song

thumping the anvil of the bruised reign

a gemini twin on a springboard dicing beef;

sleep without motion

devotion to a lesser theif

grease for the camel of my throat

coating the surface of my teeth;

of all I owe the very most

ghost of the pardon; ghoul of the leprechaun;

school of the fishbone magnets deep trapeze;

at the loose end of the dry earth

a dry month in an oceans swell

selling stories to the peacock

as I bridle the rashions of my feed;