Whiz

I have trapped a little wind in a box

I can hear it whiz around in there

And with my ear against the box

I dip brushes in colours nobody's ever seen

I paint the air

The colours float about

Winged toads have been stored under my tongue for a while

Now I let them fly

And just like birds they steer towards the sky

They smash against the glass roof and hail down on me

As their wings fall off

I must disguise myself

Shall I tread beforeyou ion guise of a human

Or something more complicated ? An angel ?

Now I lap about in numberless mouth's hypothetical spit

I am a word and their tasting me without really relishing me

Exchanging me with greasy words

Which land on their heads and melt

Something spirals out of the mouth I ' m in

It resembles some sort of winding stairs

With a frightened wingless toad on my arm

I slide on the railings and we speed up

And the circles are wide and we hold on to each other in the centrifuge

Wet clothes swathe us and our heads are spinning

Our eyes roll round and round in our heads

The toad cries out " Slow down ! " and I croak

And suddenly we're trapped between four walls

We are in an ox caught by a little wind takes us round and round and round ...