There’s a blue sea lurking somewhere past my broken heart
With a bib of spilled cartoon soul candy
Stretching like a grove of wounded gauze
Across the broken table legs

And oh the pale blue and the deep blue of
My shallow and deep spring-times
Full of a roaring kettle full of birds
Whose twitters and tweats are friendly colors visiting

My friendly universe
With the sizzle and the scratch-scratch and the clots
And the paralyzed charm
Of yesterday’s downpour in a jug

Butterflies assembled from the jitters
Imitate explosions
While spilled thumbs
Collect in a fungus of rolled mass