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About This Poem
Gliding Past The Pineal Gland
We settled into the bay and,
Like lovers kicking the sheets down,
We grabbed and furled, grabbed and furled,
Unveiling a red vista.
You never told me you loved me,
And I never had the guts to speak.
So we threw cherry bombs at each other
From the safe side of a mountain
That was made from our imaginations.
Listening to little pirate angels,
We play out our misadventures,
Swooping in to rescue each other.
We tie off the boat using
The knuckled floor of the cerebellum.
What to do, oh, what to do
With such bedlam?
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