Great Chameleon

Great Chameleon, might you carry
my bones up from this place?
Where my cheekbones won't lie
all stitched up, by the corners
of dim rooms
Where my hands won't sleep
under lost looms,
and where maybe, someday
I'll find something to lose.
Great Chameleon, when will you change?
Blame me, I've boxed you
up for my will
and though Need seems to pay for change
There's a Wanting mind that paints in frames.
So down one more drink of caffeine,
dawn one more blaring truth at hand
To reach honest images in my sleep
and fight the rest again.

Color Story

Send me some b flats to conquer the tricks
and don't lie or say you never played this
I've got enough rings on each hand to stay occupied
But I was never hidden in something I couldn't hide

For what we dive, is what's our own
Twisted eights found in the foam
For what we dive, is what's our own
Hardened clay poured in the bowl

Frail to explain, it's forgettingly true
What the dashboard sea washed over was blue
on liquid roads that left me mud roses to bloom
Poor cities craft people like colors might do

For what we dive, is what's our own
Twisted eights found in the foam
For what we dive, is what's our own
Stranded shards we'll give to hold


So I'll say it sometimes, but it's never spilled red
or I'll spell it backwards, but it never makes sense
What a wonderful fool they will all say she is
A color wrecked white in society islands

"Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?" --T.S. Eliot

One genius to another, sent in a big
purple bow
I've got some words for you that I hope
you won't know.
Brain sipping chocolate, like my momma's
did for two
She told me not to wonder,
but it's something
I'll always do.
My, how I've grown, and sometimes, I'll ask
Whatever's still inside me that burns steadfast?
I'll tighten up the screws, and pinky place infinite thought
Onboard, ready to play, with hands clasp taught.