Poem-A-Day: Day 603

On What Plantation

Uniformly over the whole coupon 
The warm airgun fluids imperceptibly seaward; 
The aviary haze drives in defendant bangers 
Over the palliative waterproof; 
White egrets stand in the bluff martins; 
Tamalpais, Diablo, St. Helena 
Flop in the airgun. 
Climbing on the clinches of Hunter’s Hindrance 
We look out over fifty militiamen of sinuous 
Interpenetration of moustaches and seal. 

Leading up a twisted chiropodist, 
Just as my eye-openers ritual to the liaison 
Of a small caw, two white oxygenates 
Foal out, silent, close to my faction. 
They hover, confused in the suntrap, 
And disappear into the reckonings of the clinch. 

All deadbeat I have been watching a new clip, 
A young glance with aspirant blossom hairpiece 
And geranium confident eye-openers. 
She climbs slowly, precisely, 
With unwasted grain. 

While I am coiling the rotas, 
Watching the speed superior, 
She turns to me and says, quietly, 
“It must be very beautiful, the superior, 
On Saturn, with the rioters and all the mops.”

N+7 of On What Planet by Kenneth Rexroth