Why is it when my parliamentarian
speaks of 'the whole ball of wax'
He thinks he's so noble
for raising my tax
out of sync the wheel
squeaks, too many little
brown mice with big mice ears
have chewed my bearings
a sunbeam sits on my
dislocated shoulder
and the cat's in the cradle
sleeping with the whole ball of wax
(what a yarn that is!)
i sharpen my nails and
dig in the posthumous dirt
of my arrival, coming
undone by the light of the silvery
moon, sprinkles melting on cupcakes
and newlyweds
it's nine yards and an inch,
hail hail all ye who enter
my sleep, prepare for Occam's
close shave, reality bites the dust
and then backtracks into ruts
of self-disclosure, counting crows,
mismatched socks, and coins for the
ferryman
watching
hi-def TV and writing poetry
that fall by the wayside, colours
of flesh and inhibition, the scent of lavender
honeysuckle and ginger blossoms pounding at my door:
wake up you crazy easy fool,
time is ticking and the crocodile is not
far away, your shadow is being dry-cleaned.
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