orchestral

down he strode a dead heap of living slag
basalt born his thighs went toward the Thing
as a raven red harlot whispered at his neck in line for coffee
and her goon nervously loitered window lee to eternity
as my surf gathered girth and goon lumbered
into thick frozen fear or the wish to inspire that
blocking the exit in psychotic trance or brain suckered confusion
i stood abruptly black leather boots shorts and athletic tight shirt
he quivered, opened the door and left, as soon did
the messenger failed lipstick coiff and all
and as i followed momentarily out this very door the sky cracked
thunder followed in torrential rain and ice
so great that the hills off mount tabor were mills of water
six inches deep stream once streets
i on my bike laughing full raingear dry made it home to vast rainbows
and when i came to my balcony there perched
the most beautiful bird i have seen, a kestrel i believe,
as the book leads me
to believe.