Sit on a kumquat, Michael Botts?
Rivers of chryselephantine,
kumquats and natural springs
are meant for better things.
Joust with dragonflies at night
by glow worm light.
Play milkweed flutes.
Fly dragon kites.
A storm blows out of the mouth of the sun
like butterflies out of a dragon’s throat,
and butterflies drop on the leaves of the trees
till the trees are covered in purple and gold.
Caterpillars eat the moon.
The road grows scales and wings
and flies back into the sun.
Under a mushroom Penelope waits
for the rain to stop and for you to come
and butterflies rest themselves in her hair.
And still you sit there, Michael Botts?
–Ship of Fools and In Raspberry Gulch–