white-blood
dive down
the ruins of kouros,
how do we run
from,
flee with
dork rimbauds; instant rainbows.
reverie, that old slang grope
down memory;
like land made from
clouds; i float in
dayglow.
inside this anthropo-goo
here’s a postcard from marimba,
some soul
long ago,
and, comets grow in comic books,
where nothing’s ever meant to be
until it looks a lot like you.
poetryandpoet 