cream of tomato soup

bare-footed fracture
of a human form

climbed clumsily
from the orange box                  

arms and legs
wriggling

a tapestry
of noodles

skipped over shingle
and sassafras roots

enraptured by contrast
and the blankness of space

and those schizophrenic
TV test signals at 2am

hand crafted
string of beads

veins and neurons
pulsing

something almost complete
in three dimensions of blue

now that time is all wrong
the shoes fit perfectly.

 

Copyright © 2003 Jim Amos