bone apple tea

by Lydia Wei

bone apple tea             boneless feet
            bonus amp in cheese               boney kerosine
blonde amputee           bone atrophy  
                        phone apple jeans        A B C D
            toe tap the fleas

i want to see disorder, destruction, chaos. 
            i’ve put
a delicious razor blade to my tongue, madly bruised, 
teeming, wild—
                        like the raving fanatic at the corner of fulton
and cliff, mouth drunk tripping over              pennies and sidewalk  
            cracks, hopscotch of unintelligible words, 
speaker’s podium, cracked prophet of 
the new millenium, millennial—i speak          the truth! 
i speak the truth!
otherwise i’m the caveman, primitive, hunting wild beasts in
the day. i speak words in the embers.
            growling, terrible—i create language. these are
our first words: i want desperately to speak—           to speak—
                        i cull sounds from disparate skies. scuffing 
            echoes along cave walls—i pray you interpret           
            meaning. 
or, like a child, i’ve torn up the spelling books, white sheets
                        soaring like doves. instead i’ll learn how to spell 
in vivid color and sound, the sheer hilarity of it—gobbling up
bowls of fruity pebbles, watching television             
                                                                                    upside down,
            pinching the soft forearms of friends, sharing jokes,
baseball bats whacking against piñatas. i trained my eye to the
kaleidoscope, turning beautiful worlds, yet rational—
                                                now i’ve thrown the kaleidoscope
            against the walls. a zillion colors shatter
like claps of thunder, meteoric syllables—
we run unhinged among the flecks.