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| Page 8 Purple Rhinoceros Bird |
| |
| Ice Tear bead’d out, snail’d |
| over the folds of |
| his velvet purple |
| |
| snout, up the curve of |
| his horn, and balanced |
| on the tip. With Cheeks |
| puff’d out and in, the |
| |
| Tear bubbled. He |
| Hiccup’d. It |
| float’d free between |
| our noses. |
| |
| "Empty Your |
| Cup Manx. |
| See the |
| Movement |
| |
| within |
| Its skin. |
| Remember, |
| and ThinkSpeak, |
| |
| Free |
| Long |
| Our Days." |
| |
| Gasoline Rainbows |
| Swirl’d Curls of Furls |
| Of a YoungChild’s EyeMynd |
| Whose Head lay Dreaming |
| Swum EatenFish Watching |
| InNumberable Imponderable |
| Things Such as an |
| Ash’d Master becoming |
| A Cat and a Cat sitting |
| Lotus Unfolding Following |
| Purple Rhinoceros Tracks |
| Trail’d out of a Child’s |
| EyeMynd where EatenFish |
| Swum Gods NoWhereNoThing |
| NonSense Weave |
| |
| (Acceptably |
| Uncomprehensible |
| As it should be.) |
| |
| And A YoungChild’s EyeMind |
| Swirl’d Curls of Furls |
| of Rainbows Gasoline’d. |
| |
| The Rhino |
| Kiss’d my |
| Nose - Warm - |
| saying, |
| |
| "Tag. You’re it!" |
| |
| And leapt |
| over me, |
| dancing |
| away |
| |
| I MeYowl’d |
| "What a Bird!" |
| "What a Bird!" |
| "What a Bird!" |
| |
| I unfold’d |
| with a |
| spring to |
| follow. I woke. |
| |
| The Bubble |
| hung humming |
| before my |
| whiskers. |
| |
| I prick’d it |
| with a claw. |
| It pop’d |
| A Bird |
| |
| singing |
| flew |
| out, |
| away. |
| |
| Bright morning |
| grew a halo |
| around the |
| Early Sun. |
| |
| A Voice |
| spoke. |
| I |
| Listen’d. |
| |
| Finding |
| a Few |
| Fishbones, |
| I laid |
| |
| them Archaic |
| in the Ash of |
| the pit spelling: |
| "Eye. Luv. U" |
| |
| and |
| Sad |
| pad’d |
| away. |
| |
| At the hill bottom |
| I look’d back |
| because the moment |
| call’d for it. |
| |
| Now, InMemory |
| |
| I see the burnt |
| black of OnceMaster’s |
| Manor built high |
| on Aristotle’s hill |
| |
| with Learn’d Pain |
| and Intelligent sweat |
| of the BoneEaterSlaves who |
| feast on White Fishbones inside |
| |
| and I laugh |
| because any |
| Bird will |
| tell you, |
| |
| "Bones do |
| not make |
| Good |
| Meal." |
| |
| Now I rise |
| to my Paws, |
| having spoke |
| these words |
| |
| to the Wind Echo’d with |
| the |
| Purple Rhinoceros |
| song, |
| |
| and Prowl into the |
| Meadow of the Mynd |
| Dream’d by the Child |
| Dreaming this Dream |
| |
| and I Wonder how |
| singing InTeeth it |
| will be to hold a |
| Purple Rhinoceros Bird? |
|
| The End |
| Read Synopsis |
|
Spoken Word 
