Auftrieb
Out of thistles man comes.
Man comes out of thistles.
He whistles.
Out of his eye
Light leaks. When you get
To his house, he will give
You your cloths:
One for blood,
One for tears from your
Cheeks. Shush me no
Shushes!
Instead, gaze out
At rushes, marvel at mean
Moon tangled in trees.
What flavour cheese?
Fathom
Delectable meals with
Kind eels. Cue kickflips
In breeze. Do backflips
In heels. Mind is like
Corn on cob. Wodneſs is
Fulltime job. Don't lament.
Don't be late.
After big wave,
We will sling skins and dry.
We will sit still and cry.
We will wait.
Here comes that
Day in September when
Windows' slats bang and blow
Like blind bats.
When wind
Pulls out your thought
By its root, she will come
To you then.
She will say,
You are right. You are
Right like tree full of fruit.