Not The Rockefellers

to know each breath that creates such covetous bliss  that’s my joy, my private treasure

they say  animals  hear it first the low,  throaty  exhale of danger tsunamis, hurricanes and the devil  you better know under your bed

the day unfolded blindly with no arms and a thick stack of maps

lust  is a kiss in a sandstorm a satin pillow  stuffed with bees

i can’t catch up with the breakneck blur of the birds in the backwoods

i tried but  got distracted  trippin’ over mind wires fantastic