Some Kind Of Cleansing
Blood be gone and hell swell obtuse,
Living with a paintbrush lady.
Her name is Sheba. She lives in the sky.
She is a star and eats leg of lamb and octopus.
She keeps me company and is an albino.
Sometimes she sits on my falling head.
Oh golden boats and pods!
Heaven of flying dirt harsh under the wall
We suffer to speak so.
We have many wounds, no?
Frogs are flying a green way.
To dream along the ebb tide
Trapped inside a dragon.
Comparisons in the tabernacle
Worms sleep inside of me.
All clouds and test tubes
Wind moving the grass where rooster goes.
Licking the skyscraper-
Oh that I could go to the sky
Where I might find a clear knowing.
Where the water goes and a high cliff comes
Church is a living crab
With three heads and a line for a neck.
Their shape is distorted
By reds and greens and white yellowing.
People have a girl curve adventure
And are ghostly feminine.
Have all kinds of colours that distract me.
Please be aware of bad things.
It is some kind of cleansing.
Thanks to Lauren Slater and her wonderful book “Welcome to My Country” from which I’ve sampled phrases to incorporate into this piece. So this piece is by Slater/Thing.