my rush

thimble full of ashes
abraxas’ daydreamer cup
minds the crush
this thimbleful
this lab eclair & eastman color
all these non-competitive masters swinging the towel
to increase the heat
towel waving to swing the hot air
towards Brumaire
the punishing heat

i walk naked
they heard & i heard a
sneezing goat
a bleat while climbing
singing computer love & my rush F
this paso doble

other selves walk about in a t-shirt
and from heir color coded pocket
i refrain to be pulled into blank
they like the hub, all these old stubs
these short pieces of pencil & trunk
as leftover spat for having a fag

i like to walk naked in front of a nub
oh, all these stories
i can’t pull something from my pocket
hey, i’m silly  no intelligence hub
shall i carry a peery blanket around
can’t swing it, that’s a fact
what a protract act
no Lucy or Linus version here
i walk naked since i don’t expect much information
people won’t compute on that
presence simple

all the while on or under the table
i am naked
like always, Ms Cherry said
you love to play the mub
waltz on maid of orleans
& don’t forget Be’eri
or the mumbling creek
don’t return to battle plans
walk naked to a nearby post
& remember the house that jack built
they are now going for house by house

naked i walk into a large opening
neither mother nor child
only a friend of a rock-climbing goat
oberhaslis’ strike off camera doesn’t get gravity
no dugout for reason

—Martina Gertrude Siebert