Kit Kelen - #15 - bower bird's (something from everyone)

bower bird's

here are my bluebells

they're the right colour

something from everyone

all the world gathered

words that walk

and sting and blister

collection of scars

be a shark – make your own

drink the wind

heal sunlight

here, poem

good poem

sit up for me

beg

Christmas is downstairs of now

there's no going back

good poem's any beast

and lugs the bubble, reputation

be a shark

rotate teeth

make your maw

a horn of plenty

every trope goes through the guts

what colour blood?

bluebells

boundless

a good poem is allergic to must

doesn't even like being told it's

a good poem

doesn't have to do a damned thing

smokes at the back of the bus

all around it there's throwing things

tickle up your skirt, a grope

knee to groin and scream

drugs – so many and various

this is the poem's ticklish adventure

makes the bells bluer

and then you forget

the future was always in us

in later life a kangaroo's pause

could make your ears rotate –

communion!

dozy lollop of a dog goes by

good poem keeps its nerve

observes

through footsteps coming from a bottle

it's take the roof off morning

so into the garden and sing

re-walk it

to hungry letterbox

in which the good poem has returned

from sojurn among philistines

welcome to my bower, Blue

there are some poems day heals over

the good poem will be a scar

time can never heal