Kryptonite
Crystallized red, gold, green nocuous clang
of vertigo, bird-toons tweeting, knees on the rocks,
rolling eyes, coverlet-lids closing, discovered
in fetal position, cocooned in butterfly net.
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
“Have you eaten yet?”
“Shouldn’t you use the bathroom?”
“Your coffee’s gone cold.”
Vortex of colors inside chromatic coma, schmoozing muse -
her elixir mixed with vibrancy, deliciousness, chamomile.
Rippling sounds of waterfalls, crooning creeks, sentient sleep.
Lips murmuring as if in meditation, rambling in fevered state,
alliterative, rhyming, tossing crumbs and cookies, tasting
death and birth - primordial sampling, inordinate linguistics.
Rip Van Winkle at your side. He’s been kryptonized,
espoused likewise - in dreams and nightmares, terrorized
and raptured by a sea of imagery of red, gold and green—
might awaken in twenty years…twenty years that disappear.
9/21/2021
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