The Milk of Venus: 2

for Renee






I get tours of roots today. I think Baby's dry .
There's only one way it can rain milk on the hour,
and that's to think all the way through trucks
growling loam metal psyche sneezes, all the while
sticking to this sentient blessing of crosshatch ice.
It, too, withdraws from warmth; I think of its wounds,
or round wars of feeling lower than glow kids gloss
you to a brink's hole. A condominium's sky sounds
indifferent to ghetto fabled traffic stamps. but we
pay for this as well. No walking on Staples Mill lake
ice yet.
The opposite of freezing is Baby's cream.



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Anningan (in progress) http://www.lewislacook.com/Anningan/AnningansDoor.html
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/


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