Nikou Allen

That tie
Pink as it may be
     moves in small golden motions
As the entity in
          the chair
pervades.
As if it
     were omnipotent,
closing off small ideas of little green men
     SPLAT
Contents contact are only a
     Five second dream
     reality in a blue box
affixed in nothingness
or a small hole in the pavement
     Thoughts from above
               hit the people down below
That, however, is what the man said

about,
     Or never
          about the bottom of the
                    contents
In the elastic vibration of that tie.