sweet rider in Blue of harnessed senses
fabric doused in a crystal pink falling
whispering: portals never work
a long line of canvases reaching out
to meet with the silvery darts of a Reinhardt cue
by & by leading up to the sitting room
four lengthy canvases of sweet spare parts
as left atrium of the arts
an effervescent carpet of hashed stones
chopped up pieces of palms & jackfruit
infinitely weak while catching up with seconds of buffered hearts
scandalizing vernacular of the manumission beat
reaching the kitchen
in the shaded sitting room somebody’s finger touches the nose
as well as an array of amputations
forging the street of rose petals’ fall
a street beneath six panels of Kiefer evidence
reaching the echoless reach of saskatoon
the bee berry service room, the metropolitan area next to
the polar fox bath room where 2 spirits from Hawaii
discuss the sweetness of wild flowers & nasal taps
Flaps & ETC ( endoscopic tissue culture )
nickel layers, isolators, ventilators
meanwhile the horizontal myth wall grows
his kind of St Moritz story telling or
nutty cherry blossoms’ leek in the mud room
Beat Beat Beat
a glowing of
mental escapology in polar fox garb
so pure , still disguised by love & a hirst
giving laugh as
rider in Blue, skirmishly meek tweak
walking you through an experience
the manner, penurious
while gasping for tarriance
amnesia beat covered in salmon blushing
flushed rose & prime, utmost shell
manumission beat
welcome to Super blue
mule tele with blue hue hoo
how can we not adore you?
soberly
i witness the pumice sprayed blood oranges on the slopes of Etna
Mongibello
the lost feed …
call it Yellow, call it Grey
oh, just hearsay
substantia nigra
—Martina Gertrude Siebert
