Saturday, September 16, 2017

Kit Kelen #623 - aliens



623
aliens

the aliens come as an insect thin mist
they land, expand
on skin or any sovereign touch
each is a flag unwitting

they might have been mucus
small enough to outrace time
one day we will travel that way
just an idea across ages of space

makes the insects monsters
puts the dinosaur back into bird
how ghoulish whet-the-whistle
and often just cause why

this makes God of all who who watch
take names in vain and gives
play on a scale come! all kinds of colours
we have a cross to burn

they might have three cornered hats
they adapt – will they need regular meals?
here is a song of their journey so long
and we have their blood now

they say the picture, sting, come to blows
you'll notice proboscobility
that's their feeling thing – weird garb
cock an ear to the odd we-are

some days simply have been thought here
two places at once – that's the trick
do they wash? what if grandma were one
had been? they're a way distance tells

everything teaches – you can't help that
could be tricked into thinking they're here
but home is all away for them – further more thought
there must be a formula

dreaming in our words sometimes approach
they name the thing too big to know
come naturally you might say
often the voice is disembodied

breathe easier that way
just as often thrown
so many segmented
carapace much of it

him/her would be taken to heart
that's a kind of welcome too
stranger – a buzz about the ears

between the worlds is like an ocean
no one worships there
and how charmingly sweet they sing
of the Tum Tum Tree and Bong

o caterpillar many make one –
be motto
Seethe and Sigh – a firm of solicitors
Dickensian to bone – throw shekels off

associate!
children whom we must attend
they're lightning where the tree struck
stolid – can't be read

though you may never see their rudeness
everything aches less
when you approach
kiss, miscegenate

feet on the ground
and take the breath there
been here before
wasn't there this once when

o mongrels! be one!
brace for their scorn!
a poem will have these last lines
it's everyone's work to translate

3 comments:


  1. the real aliens
    are the humans
    pretending to be
    just otherwise
    than stardust
    the true golden
    interplanetaries
    don't seem
    all that fussed

    ReplyDelete

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