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i'll tell you what it is, honeyTo Luke Buckham's previous piece     unnamed fun?To Luke Buckham's next piece

be still & travel with a new prayer
entering the twilight railroad
your heart must be contained in the spikes
no longer will you speak to me of fire
   triumphing out there on my long grasses
no longer will you speak to me.
all their guts like one ice-white granite flower
        hurled from windows that never held glass
re-enter me, oh my heart
in a window still fogged by lovemaking that has ended
in a mirror crowded with stereo speakers twitching
electrical fans bringing me the clipped voices of edited children
                who will not be frozen by time
                who will be blessed by the cancerous gambles of the sun
lampshade sitting on my head, eyes numb as lawnmower blades
re-enter me
oh my heart
                                                                    when i will wish 
                                                              to wrap a raindrop in tinfoil
                                                   or put the feet of a dead driveway bird in my mouth
                                                     or wake up misty-eyed in a crib of sealed glass
                                                          shortened limbs & teethmarked wrists.
allow me another month of gambling on this broken hand
on these cold glass-flecked paths of health insurance & antique clocks
                                                                               Microsoft nestled in knotted treebark
                                                  circuits snipped by the chipped buck-teeth of sacrificial squirrels
allow her to continue stepping out of rainbow-cylindered cars just before they explode
allow my engine to catch up with the horsepower of heaven
allow my long hands to fling birds into the polished dining room
  & they to flee the cool bouquets & silverware 
    & crowd my metal bedrooms with new noise
lower my musical arguments into a well of thick moss walls
bring up a bucket of glistening saliva & toss out the long horse teeth
                                           that you find there--unthreatening knives--
we mix blue yarn with attic cobwebs, 
    upsetting the gone spider's sacred witless math
and heave the old treehouses to the tops of skyscrapers
and love my overripe heart 
    until it's yearning crosses the blue & white of airport tv screens
and love your green heart until it's alien mathematics succeed
outside the rusted sun dial & the black & grey judgements 
                                of the digitally photographed grandparents
and love again my science-fiction eardrums waiting for saxophones to kill satan--
                                                                            re-enter me
                                                                          (not carefully)
                                                                            oh my heart.   

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