The Orbed Hybrid Of The Fish Growers

a whirlwhind on tap menacing streets and towns
fishmongers leering the fish markets and the fish growers
a carping husky chomping at the icemans bit
sledding skates, shoeing horns and humping poles

dancing bears, waltzing polkas with leopold
heading icicles and kodiak waste
whimsy at the dawn or the lunar melody
traotskyite roulette, black russians, heady persuasion and paleontology

are rivers ice made of bleeding mountains
is a laugh a scorn of judgement
against the fleeting reality of the wagon
imported bigelow habitats spacing moons

or gravity checks not profound, yet suyrreal
the 8 TRACK PLAYER you can only play once
not because the glue is adhesive or sapphire
there are so fucking many

from the heat to the layer the species twining thread and dreams
that the rabbi blessed
the plasma was falsely claimed by prometheus
the hybrid sun, falling into the orb of her breathless eyes