The Smith That Clean Our Stars by Don Van Vliet

The smith that clean our stars
The wolf head came off in night
His paw plucked a mushroom and pawed a nest of bees
A blade of grass trembled
A water drop threatened – burst
A felt ear curled back into pink
His slick stocking face chrome lips puckered pursed
Red balls fell out of a tiny screen
Opened dot that shined and was licked away
A yellow paraffin eyelid melted back into night velvet without sound
Rested and reshaped… closed and hid the stair
A tiny wooden door opened shut
A polished knob grown dust in the dim hallway
Meaty blond people danced at the end of the hall yellow and white.

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