green tornado room
i.
in the bird feather flurry of
schizoid springs
mouths voice the tired words of disease news,
of rusty pangs of flight in thin trails
from chambers like these
the sweet rain, vernal creeping
floods of memory vines on the hordes of red tongues
lapping the wet, the same tongues restless,
in vocal whiskey mockery
of life past
trash
vocabulary of events
chained to time
in conversation parody
in a room bent for the winds
oh characters
who disguise their newpaper histories
with shreds of revue
unwound tv reruns
in the words in streaks
of tragedies like soiled flags of lives
ruined parades of people
seated in crippled revue
in the hope of freedom from life
paralysis in a great green room
ii.
who dared to speak from their closet heart
here
say the winds
burn the tongue
share the beans
splice conversation
characteristic of disease,
the occupants retreat into silence,
their awkward patterns of speech gnarled.
their wax like figures speak of tightness:
mind suffocation in a room,
doom hanging out the nearest window,
all in the moment of a prairie sunset
iii.
the tea is served at an odd hour,
in the weird caverns of this house,
where the cripples congregate in aimless, rustling
banter over the weather
the other soldiers pass by the window in
druid search of sacred relics
asphyxiated artists dying in the streets
mouths throttled with venom
cradled in the moment of last breath
where the teeth mesh in gears of torture
half words of sin regret
the crippled inhabitants burp
another sip of tea
another sip of movie death
iv.
the tornadic winds:
mine is the quick death of gangster scenes
the vapor trails of intermittent splendor,
reluctant and tragic death,
geometric blindness unto a sun that no longer
shines to the past
i am the barren sense of years
made fruitful in a beauty of despair
a gypsy sense of cruddy redemption
melancholy streaks of faces my many masks
ruthless condemnation my forte
the acrid odor of all not deemed to mitigate
wrinkles
i am a ghost of striving chance
spirit of awareness
concerned with the pleading faces of humans
the conglomeration of flesh that
expresses the forfeiture of flight
that broods in material disdain over
apocalyptic years
the wagon ring defense abided in
crumbs of thoughts over years ago
years before the imaginary onslaughts
became arrows to the mind hordes
dazed and stung piles of gray years
fermenting venom poison to the conscious
rivers of pain began the flood
they reverted to tossed dreams
illusions of encores they riveted
a process of heart gently in
angry weakness to a neurotic film of selves
measured by the masks cast off
the film wound its gravity of light
in raven memories: wisps of wind
pointing, wretchedly yet faintly, to
reruns of lethal moments
specks of creeping disease
cloud their film
the moment is staggered by glances
points of evergreen questions dart
like points of funeral lights
church candles in a storm
snorers break their mantra in
reference to weather mumbles or
to honor a wind of doom
look up:
estuaries of light
shadows synthesize
carnival mirrors of moods
a celluloid image is all
the prune faces
in incoherent reverence
nod with a grief
bless this schizoid spring
with tracks of lives
thieves of death in this showcase
v.
a mundane chapter a time ago
could be more sensible
the itching of bones becomes a curiosity no doubt
events assembled on a plastic ribbon
resemble
in common madness
an idiot's noose