mars beacon

Elements:

lips: linked sausage
nose: Fuji at Ginza
eyes of moon redoubled,
crescent;
brow: a glove compartment
filled with sundry notions,
unwatered.

Chinwise

buddha abed, even then
long sweeping smile,
head filled with dreams.

Edgewise

H'omage to the skateboard;
two-and-a-half flip twisties
on the slopes of Easter Island
still sleeping.

Celestial Playpark - Martian Lurkers

the final trimester,
3-cubed thousand years
of sequestered superstition
on a desert-dark planet
hiding priests in the valley
of lips, linked, blessing
pilgrims as they leap to death
from the fuji-sphynx beneath
twin moons. canali refill






. . .
the poet walks off in another direction
mumbling something about. . .              


. . .
to the office (bio, information, remarks,....)


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