Summers

aging out and away on lists
cooked up by smug economists
a jumble of well-ordered delusions
electrified glowing extrusions

stirring dreamy drowsy sighted lake

swirling into a rivering wake
wending among sleepwalking sands
the grit of this waking, inner land

crumbs of salt rain from a bow
"that was from eight years ago..."
old haunts untwined, afterburned
with bloodied knuckle tangents returned

surface adorned in arcane relief

in-fancy, shrugged off from belief
how howled dreamtime remits
repayment plus interest seemly fits

into a pair of misgiven jeans
sequenced genome's splitting seams
of chaos-machines' dumb-doled misnomers
of fragile flowers' doldrum midsummers

spinning silver tales of springs unseen

and of summers' winters yet undreamed
yarns unraveled, implanted to grow
into new life asking, "how does it go...?"

should a petal floating find its way
a silence song for sanguine skies
to rest on gulfing gaze of languid bays
and in heathy heart eternal lies.