Lasik

A wooden soldier hollowed out of oak;
Rage, raging against that machine which grasps
The rusted gears of a clock, melted sands;
The sedimentation blowing left into
A seif dune with a vortex seeping its way
'Cross the Pulmonary into the
Infundibulum, hissing like the valve
Of a tank of Nitrogen set ablaze;
Racing the forests of California.

A wooden soldier resupined in front
Of the Capitol Records Tower with
Perked ears entertained, silently laughing,
To the melody of "Love is Easy;"
Blinded by the smog, his veiny red eyes
Pupiled white, with no vision of Rome etched
On the walls of L.A.'s Coliseum;

Melodic abruptions, "Ain't no wrong now,
Ain't no right;" Nihilistic, when was this?
Where am I? How did I get here, this sand?
These dunes? A mirage of casinos held
Bitter in the distance, swathed by the scrapes
In the sky, hyperactive in their dance
To the aurora flaring through down-pours
Which feather the sanctum of the outskirts;

A wooden soldier deporting his oak.

(c) 2011