I'm the Green Machine

Sail,

you to me,
on your broken leg in the open sea.
See a whale while he's gazing there
and wond'ring what's in the air.
He ponders over it
while we twitch and gnit

like ratta-tats out a thinking gun,
or water drops on a broken drum.

I know where you stand
so I'll shake you with my broken hand.
But I won't shake you hard
cause you're just a baby, not a guard,
and that would just be mean.

I'm the green machine,
woman. Play me with your girlish
and I do the things you wish.

Onilopocation

What if I were the dead gladiator
walking still at the end?
Watch and see, I am the few that wins to live.
Watch closely. I will watch a ball darting 'round my eye.
I will be your spectate.

Those were the glorious days,
when I sat in the high chair-
when I sat in the shadow
of any tree I liked.
And what about the senate?
(And what about the senate?!)

None whatsoever anymore.
No one tires to be a bore,
everyone lives to be a whore-
with a nice disposition.

Tight Rope

I cannot see the world
in the footsteps of giants,
or in the tunnels of mice;
on either pole of ice.

I cannot swim the seas
within a frozen ease
nor in a fleshy lake
(nor in a salty, broken wake).

I cannot breathe the sky
by sniffing at the ground
nor fishing in a cave
for a rotted, slapping sound.

I can feel some earth downtown-
soil below me slung.
My feet, they seem just fine
for balancing 'pon twine.

Put Me Back To Bed

I can sail into the dream-time,

paint pictures on sails of pirates

and let the wind blow through their teeth

like a dagger or a toothpick.
I'm cosy in bleeding gums.

The freedom of down and mutton
yanked round the throat by an alarm
sets me off down a watery trail
through my sheets.
I felt her their beside me.

Sherlock Holmes just finished up
by the time I got to the laundromat
and his clothes smelled like opium;
an elementary observation to say the least.
I sleep the most.

Naked Gin

I am the sigh baron;
the count of deep breaths,
a vintage of deep breathing-
the father sleeps quest.

But english rooftops seep seep,
then spew a waking spile
after pissing in the night
off a poor girl's smile.

I could swear I heard a peep
from the senate in the back;
It's the courage shy the gin-
without it they would lack.

"Braay!" He shouts,

"My vest has come off!
My vest has come off!"
Point Him to the way
and He'd drink from a trough.