THE SANDBOX POEM

Prelude

In a color negative to the beginning
In a color bluer than the start
In a color reconfigured for the therapist:
a color scheme for art

THE THERAPIST REFUSES TO INTERPRET
but prefers her patients
to own the objects for themselves. Yes, it is for them to figure out.
So all I did was turn the color inside out.
All I did was turn the color inside out.

From the Dark Room:

Big-eyed dazed girl is sinking her star into the sand.
Snakes curl candy whips yin yang her.
The sheep inky black, licorice dark, a night-bred captive.
He is shrouded by the blue sand. She does not herd
Him: she too is like the black sheep.

BAA BAA BALOO.

Pie-eyed Japanese sex toy girl is dazed with snake poison.
Night falls and they surround her big dream-head.
Eyes hugely spiraled with pupils and black void.

She has buried the dreams – like particles or atoms – into the
sea-sand. SMASH. Will they explode into star-songs?

SUBMARINE. SUBCONSCIOUS LIKE THE STARFISH
With four arms SHE DREAMED HERSELF ONCE IN NEW YORK.

The lavender electric car will take her WEST to a new age OR
California road RAGE.

The cobalt blue nest is her mother’s heart and emptiness: both –
the dry straw, the perfect circle.

A battle for the past at the edges and the saddest is the fairy fallen,
her voice faded from her hostesses’ fear.
One sky blue boot hangs delicately in the air. Her wings
Maple-SYRUPY patterns
mangled. She flew on pancake saucers. She defied the grave.

A sorcerer outsees unanimities.
His cranked hand juts out of a black robe conjuring waves
of energy. Hoodoo energy. Zoom-impacted waves.
Whoosh, hoosh & sizzles, sinks, mushroom-like.

The horse, an echo of her beat, is now like chalk white, lightening
in front of the pine cone who stands for her father;

A LITTLE ICON OF SPEED NOW FROZEN IN SEA-SAND.
But best of all, and OUT OF TIME, are the turquoise stones – once the BORDER-LINE between past and present –

now pink-spotted eggs. As if to be eaten: sugary and plump.

Maybe there is a chance for the star-based big-eyed daze girl.
Maybe there is a chance of elevation for the big-eyeD Japanese sex-toy who sings.

Signs of life in the sand. Or is it just my imagination?
School teacher of non-object lesson, plant of well-being.
What’s the point but the picture?
What’s the point but to DIG IN.

Lo Galluccio