Lizards

Lizards from the beginning of time scales on their skins measured footsteps or the lack of legs moving on their chests torsos fallen Ozymandias bearded prophets poets jumping inside deep into circles of death and hell rings of fire worn by godly women or just women who happen to be gods just by being, being in a dream or in real on lines and ripples on the desert sand stolen notebooks lines ruled pages filled with words and drawings – lines, line, lines, this way or that and to talk with friends who’ll forever be friends who’ll forever be far away in faraway lands of birds and bell pepper umbrella moons of summer nights tender mind bender that do not want to commit to an unseen tomorrow when the shirts with souls and soles are hanging in these long lines of thin metal wire drying in the sun of a silver moon jar of salt holding histories of stories of oceans of a million years of being born anew over and over many times again clouding the sky falling, falling, falling – rain and then a river and then the sea full of fishes and sharks and whales and tortoises living in the deeper depths of deep sea darkness knowing, seeing everything believing nothing after the flutes have breathed their last breaths in between moments of madness, freaking out, leaping into abysses of the unknown falling, falling, falling like rain leaving stains of time and salt on skin that covers a heart and a mind full of matter and thoughts and space and time making, creating space and time and the entire universe when no one is here around watching, listening to loud music filling their ears with candles and waxy stars sitting on rubber road surface of leaves shivering in the silver breeze of the moon of copper pretentions