Lepner’s Pond
1. approaching lepner at sunset
like a UFO made out of lipstick, Lepner offends
the eye, a pillar of tangerine in chocolate reality
no, wait, stop. He can’t.
Like Jesus fog, Lepner is a rock wrapped around
the water wrapped around the fog. Eleven times himself,
he divides and conquers, he is something else boy.
2.) From the distance,
he reddens, hueing up again, purpling
like busted fingernails. He shifts, he snuggles
into color, he wears things. Clothing is an
artifact of nakedness, it is a necessity of nudity,
rather than a consequence of bodies.
his pond, sullen, looking on.
3.) the garden of saints
like everything you were too afraid to confront,
the pond divides, segments, geometrizes,
in factors of seven, making cubism of St. Andrew’s
upside down toes, driving triangle nails through Thomas’ toes.
like everything you were afraid of, the water has
teeth, Lepner has teeth, everything in the world,
blurred blue, now orthodontic. Earth is
an overbite, waiting for an almighty corrective,
something fixable, something willing to fix.
like everything you fear, the divine science
is bejawed, an event horizon of bone.
Kneeling to conserve spelling, a rosary of
Darwin, a Hail Mary for String Theory,
Let’s hear it for closeness, for the backing, for
everything you are afraid of,
rising, blue, painting you.
4.) fog
no gene pool could possibly deliver you.