In Persona

Big shiny blue bus glides
pinetops for suitcase
or learns the sink & swim
dip wherever held back.
This bus won’t be next
year for an axe or uterine
ready then partly body
from solid mass.
Penciled sun stares
its written self
boldly from stop
with the lights on
life of the stapled lights
this morning on
the saddle of a back,
a thought-less-personal
disintegration
as much as the room
in question asks

Which man met a train
set apart over-
stepped a man
of means and many trees
with leaves of puddles
sculpting beauty queen
carnival skin like a whisper’s
public scissor halving
garden gates between
eye sockets lost
on the path less traveled,
our go-between glutinous
god-like personage