Tangled

Tangled
In a jungled
Daze if lunch
Runs pasts the orphans
Sobbing on the street block
And sucks salmon suckers silently
On a Sunday afternoon
Golden and gloomy
Tangled up in a glass
Looking into a masquerade
Communion with taughts and pretense
It bumbles against immense
Monoliths masquerading as
Honey lusting bees
Caught in a web of summer
Hanging on a line
Skipping across the tracks
Snakeing behind mothers backs
Into the river
Of blood and flesh
The blood rushes
And the flesh melts
At the slightest and most sensuous
Touch
Fingers
Touch
And
Tangle trembling and
Touching