The Towheaded Boy

I dreamt of a towheaded boy, with a mud that had caked in his hair, beard, and face.

He ran what he called a zoo, but he was the exotic one.  There was only playfulness in his being, and it was salt that I saw when I looked past his beauty.

He was superbly male, and unabashedly unashamed in being so.

I wanted to hear the world in his face. His scars and tattoos sang songs for me, and made me move where the mud and dancing play together.

reactive

fixation asphyxia,

lynched up,

a rattler in the throat,

macularpapular and anaphylactic.


a tin foot on the self-medicated eye,

an ocular mucosa,

bound.