Ants on Parade

 
can you see what i see
words don’t come easy
to the sour blue mind of a 
	biochemical visionary
a puzzle in the middle
illusions in the shade
	grill step
	energetic	apex
grooves like a
	6 a.m. lollipop

a lie rings out
like a church bell
cool mama, facts don’t 
matter when the
	dead are dancing
an odd concept window scene 
serpents & orange trees 
& ants on parade
the kind of blood that
flows like newspaper 
through our veins

a mad fashionable fling
	front to back
when the interlude is  
	whitewashed 
silence blooms like
an orbital goddess
	holy bop 
		acid riot

there’s anarchy on the 
church steps, mama, 
murky metal, the king of
magma (tilt his crown), the 
morning after,
this is
	our time
wiggle those dive 
breasts, mama, the
blessing of the hips,
mama, gotta have it,
can’t explain it, spin 
the wheel
	mama, stir

A special “thank you” to artist, T. Blake. This poem was inspired, in large part, by the following image, which I was delighted to find in my inbox on waking this morning (and which, I am told, was partially inspired by the poetry contained in Grunge Bones): Hecate Trimorphe and Her Consort, Leshi, Playing in the Garden of the Gods, graphite on newsprint, 27 September 2019.

Hecate and Leshi

 

13 thoughts on “Ants on Parade

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