Poezja

HALLO WORLD-BALL
Feathery old static fluff-ball
World with its upside down Russias
All over the place-
  Hallo again I say to thee
world scatter-wing a day gone turned
a worldly spin on things, a time
World-ball, I remember you
I remember when I painted your portrait
Yes, I know you.
  Clattering to the ground are
ladles, screens, tunnels, an entrance-way
to other times, afternoons,
a camp a cave a jittney-ride a spin
You have so much to offer-
  You immensely and unimaginably
rich and diverse world
that is in fact a conglomerate
ball composed of many a world
squashed together
on the surface of one ball-
  World-realm-shadow-ball-
Thought-made ball-
  Ball dappled with discarded
Dreams of the dear dead and gone ones-
  Of many times, a World 
of many situations and perspectives
A World
Of so many feelings, thoughts, memories
and sense impressions of dust-like
entities,
A World-
  So to gather up everything that
ever happened in the World
and hold it up to the light
and so to hallo the World
step away and look cleanly at it
Because you know;  what is a World?
  Is it one now I'm looking at it aren't I?
Is it this whale-frothing sea of drops
or this stone-mantled continental swoop
these breezy air-realms sunny afternoons
going shopping in town or hurtling cyclones
around the Aleutians under the auraura borealis
the sand in a fly's eye in Arabian hubub 
bouncing back the glint of light
from mineral silicone frost sliding glimmer-
  In a dirigible's rib-cage telegraphic
morse signals electro-magnetic 
kinetic communique - a scene yes
but not the only because over
here you have
look, another glistening
pallette of shimmering
viridian hues-
  so puff, Old World
And gleeful spin,
Don't damp your imagination
and get done in-
  Moons to your moods they cling
Eyes closed 
Mind's eye open-
Bubbling street stations
and there's the department
of complaints
In a street like this town
you have everything
and it's all going down-
  Lemon-horns blow stawberry licks
and slippery drums pour stacks
rattle
Fresh and green slew plumes of  pine
and gliding fish brined bone-strong
water-gone gads-
witness the manta
sea-square strangeness
to the power of three-
  Light split into beams
blaring on golden morning wall
early white gold light
young light lucid-
  World barely just held together
by cumbersome pins and
antiquated and outmoded systems
of pseudocohesion and psychodrama-
  World enmeshed in myth
World on the back of a fish
and frisson of fish-net prophets
melt the ice of eye-sockets
glossy glaze and gaze through glass
at last glossing the fog with
crystal vision-
  World aflash with exploding Humanity
World writhing in chemical mysteries
World flung hung religiously in space
as though in a glass case on display
as if created by atom-storm-wind
in the nostril of clustering horse-god
in x-ray lightning shattered-
  Living world,
into which the breath of all the dreams
of people's chain of ages whispers 
and ripples-
  World which all look upon and think
You are mine-
  Gadfly World, teasing out illusions
home of distorted ideas, home-world
of the greedy cruel and indifferent
world well-submerged in down-mentality
world almost subjugated by mal
world toxic made not well by man
Old nature fighting back-
  World to the core hot, spinning
in space like the Great Phonograph
of legend-
  Honour to the World of everything
plastic bags and all
But mostly to the myriad creatures
the glittering sparks of beings
the mass of zillions of hearty ghosts
smiling children of ephemera
crude karmic ping-pongs
kind souls, kindred folk, kith,
and atom wind sea-square strangeness-