a face pinned to a stem
occured to me yesterday

am i excused to exhale
inebriated roses
behind the mistletoe

when no one is looking
you whirl and hum

i take lush notes i get beaten up

i walk along wide sidewalks
my feet are slaves to the straight line still

i see their faces smell the pink-colored fog
every building each lamp post
covered and misted

merrily going around
the faces are not misted
ghosts have always had such
clear faces

down here after the casualties
have been counted
(one ladybird, one grasshopper,
a couple of stray dogs, a starfish
a blue plastic unicorn
and a chicken)
we count the visible spots of sky

i do not leave you
i'm bound to stay here and die in a day
stealing lines from an authorless history
i do not leave you
down here every eye
is a small ferris wheel