AERONAUTICA
The air is full
of living languages
I don’t understand.
In the shapes of things
as they appear today
mutant evolution, the end
results of lingering
chaos causalities
(nearly wrote
casualties)
as if
those butterflies in China
have grown dragon, perhaps
pterodactyl wings
and me trying on my old
battered Stetson hat of
Joe Cool casual cowboy
alone at my post, SS Totenkopf
or Das Reich division about
tiger tank over me
panzer
right through me
will be my karma
a relief of sorts
the air
full of sounds by no means
all of them Indo-European
my book
of many colours closing;
enjoy your schadenfreude
