Fluxed

By Matt Ronquillo

Sounds of the young and upset:
Twang-rang-pot-bang (tornado dance in the kitchen),
like roof shingles sky-flipping in the wake of my orange sneakers

I’m an amphetamine-snot-rocketing-
counter-clock-wise-ass,
redhead hair-whipping
spiraling
alone

Aiming for purgatory,
yet perpetually older,
a flesh-bordered, fluxed enclosure,
speeding through myself, yet (.)

When you’re my age
time bends and leaves Speed
to fight against the rushing water’s pace,
while your newly creased, waving hands crash sloppily through the water
spiraling flustered green birds from the branches of trees

Read Full Post »