Tin Lizard Poem by Luke J. Holt

My foil sands
are sad trails
that i know from watching the thickening silver of morn

the starry handbasket
woven with yellow hay
is making molecules in
the sky
your eye
a torpid jewel as if one in space
and zero in you and seven to a calander week

II
Tomb waste
like silly glitters
of stargleam
like puddles of melted moon on a
meteor spring
herds of eggshell comets
dissolve
like youve never seen an eye built with teal laserbeams

run from me!
it will help you
fit in
with all of them you knew

III

terrycloth orchid

willow cheer

for you have swallowed a green diamond
and now you are a yellow receipt
worth a world and a
physicality

a crystal
your picture
a black moss machine
slovenly marching
to a dumb cross
in a valley of marigold

IV

you dont know my friend, the shadow;

he can stand after the sun has charred him alive
he dances and smolders in the burning sand
wrapped in precious leaves
i asked a hundred trees
for three thousand suggestions

V

My boat of stone
is your favorite joke
you wrote it yourself
with a preferred omnipotence

QUILL OF GOD
like a comet to your head

spangle me with dreamish yearning
kisses that bloom spiders at their sights

A black firework on my face? ? ?