i keep my demons at bay,
sitting on the dock with Otis.
let him sing to them
while i attempt to stay dry,
one day at a time..
the shadows of my skeletons,
thick as if cast off of elephants
big boned..
Oh, Otis
these shadows are clay
to the hands that reach from your mouth

every night as the teeth fall from mine,
death card reversed
is my alarm clock
slithering off a bed of owl feathers,
one by one
i pull snake halos
from the urn
of the vatican’s ashes,
carefully tossing them
as the powder residue
that spins off of these saucers
collect into moths
that stumble
into the sky
and become the stars over Georgia.
Oh, Georgia…

the halos hit the ground
like the staff of moses,
becoming planets
the antlered elders kowtow to,
over the universe
and under the ocean.

Otis,
keep my dreams still
and the liquid sun
that pours from the spout of Ray Charles
will cradle your airplane
when it is time to crash.

the music was all that was left,
rippling through the hologram,
sawing the horns off the beast…
i surf the diamond tide
the still bay bursts into
tears of joy
from the child
inside the machine
dissolving
into a wheat field…
all shadows bleed fireworks.
born are the
illuminated skeletons.