Slightly hysterical poem reminiscent of a mandala

[the Dandelion; the Screen Door]

This writhing door is no guide.
Not even a car door or revolving door
can render the dais it does. That pole again. That indoor: outdoor
again. Are you feeling discomfort
my love? Where's
the arterial spray?

Not even a tree or a minute before the cliff underwater
becomes...
I can't describe it, I can't relate it
to you

I'm just more able to get blood drawn
when Al Green sings in the room. I mean it.
Let's stay
Let's stay together

*

If you want me to pass out
you better be serious: shellac a worm, twist the blue sheets
around a checkerboard. That'll do it. That'll
be mine. And if I want you to drown in a furnace,
I'll touch an exotic metal.

I'll say I don't know What's there
what's a honeysuckle
carved from?

You'll say You'll leave me
You'll climb the
Climb the

*

Bougainvillea, I'll suggest, and on this particular
morning, I'm right. It blows the theories, it blows the
stem, and it could just be a symbol because
the skirt is lifted, the gasket is hot pink; and we know
how the mind works, how a constellation of wind catches

the eye, how the wild dust
of a swirl, an engine that goes thwack, thwack
pass out

off the Mezzanine,
color of blood, color of paint

*

Oh humans,
you should give me
a lollipop, you should
in my mouth

and then we should go on to church
cradle this desire thing

Fix my Victrola
Fix it

my wagon is missing a wheel