LIME HEADED DOG
he was a Boy just with no spine of any sort,
growling and loose like jelly, his Tracksuit hung on him like a necklace,
the women who he had dressed up in sketched tuxedos were the first to
scream as he
hobbled by
forcing their faces in to a stretch,
so their stubble scraped against the Pavement
mostly he would be scratching with a copper Penny,
the Weeds that grew in between the pavement stones
and where Bicep roots of the trees would uproot the roots of Parking meters,
he would leave those to do their work,
And back to work with the copper penny
on the Weeds that grew in between the pavement stones
his Knees and Palms,
Tongue out
Leaning and Squeezing, he would start to rise and rock
and Lava would ease its way up through the vein he had gasped away,
bright Bluely at first, bulging and spitting,
and then that lava would turn a Blood Red, like paint mixing and
every time the crowd looked at it with their Eyes
it would be shooting blinking Blue Lines in to their eyelids
all from looking at it too hard
while saying “the hottest flame feels like ice at first”
because they could see this Lava soak in to the Knees of his worn out Trousers
and the rising Red would raise up whole paving stones, and Streets
and bricks would give way and the ground would swell like
a Pregnant Hump
until, like a Whale in the ocean, a Mountain in motion, it picked him up
and carried him away.
From: London
Website: myspace.com/joelcox,
myspace.com/limeheadeddog