poem with sliced title

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
a ballet of dust
--djuana


one mystery behind another. the scope of a harley
on a hairpin turn, glacier's white beard calling
to the sun, melt me. i waltz on a negative tutu
diorama disentegration into you. wherever

you might be. the past is not worth a farthing
this moment is possible because it's falling
into/out of octopus wide as a beach,and you
bring metal detectors and instruments of weather

a chtulu for president kind of decision, the watch
the tower the everpresentness of loss , the boss
kind of power. oh love, why do you tease me so?
it was summer and i'll keep it going, you'll see with

the thought of fruits to be plucked, picnics caught
in the razor phone, a zone best kept in moss
that gathers on my fingertips, while the walk -slow
into autumn- begins. seems we've always pitched

tents on the sides of seasons, you and i, brew barley
with yeast in the back of hearse so we can hoist a few.
nomads in deserts stained with dunes . thoughts
trying to find a place to go. what to call us, i dunno.