knocking on my occipital
I lie
about the man
squatting on the windowsill
hammerhead gargoyle
his cranial cavity is a chasm
not a canyon
a silkworm tunneled therein
the man arrived
on a saucer
not in the Ming vase
delft might have inked him
this is not an exercise
in retroflexion
I am not inverted
There is too much truth-
telling
I lie
about rococo and the ceiling
of the Bavarian castle
Bardolino confessional & a priest
named Theo
the flaking wall of the cellar
and my grandfather
and his minions
a chop shop a hog Harley and Chapstick
about mixing turmeric
and turpentine for
that savory stew
I fed you
saliva and phlegm-gobs, as it happens
This bird is an augur
presaging a Jungian carnival
bowling pins gyre
horses say Mother
a dog laps
another dog
round a NASCAR track
a rolled up tongue
a home-rolled cigarette
Are you on board
clipped in
pinned to styrofoam?
Did you build the pop can pyramid
on the floor of the Pacific?
If you
ask me
I will lie
There's no two ways
about it
I hang spiraling
like a mobile
driftwood fossil foil
aluminum rabbit ear antennae
a ribcage in a glass case
a cake box
without a cake
now you see
Do you believe?