Some dreams ooze fuschia,
Acrylic in deep bayou glow,
Sprinkle me in neon lights

Bead us in avenues of wide clefs
Major thoroughfares peopled
With bass drops & electric

Blue of Bonquita’s hoops.
Prototypes        wake up!
Concerned with lost panties,

Bottoms plenty Hottentot
To cap oil in a bleeding Gulf,
Pink pelican jowls scoop in dirty girt,

Dirt work, born in a dead chicken, jerk.
Something wicked rumbles
Under both lids, night’s grease

In creases like us caught
In breaks, Post dream,
Post traumatic, we opt to rebel

Against —clown smiles, monochromatic.
Keep me asleep in nightmares
If awaking means forgetting, washing memory

Clean of blood trucks in Jasper,
Ornaments on strong trees,
Stench of burning skin,

4 little pretties liquid in the pulpit,
(My grandfather’s name was Emmett)
The fire was surely orange,

At its hottest, violet blue,
Urine which puddled at roots
Stole its deep color from fields of goldenrods:

The eyes that watched inherited color, too.