ORTHOGONAL GOGGLES

to crack the spine of books and go on sprees
to search all-out for keys and find the locks
to find the gutter pleasant as the trees
to tiptoe poets' corner in wool socks
I doubt electric shock could free the spine
of tiny charges heading toward my mind
I kick at style drunk on subtle wine
when something tells me dance, I dance, I find
the upshot is a theorum squared blood red
to free the frogs of green and paint the breeze
to turn a phrase so human I drop dead
to breathe her breath and telegraph a sneeze
the crudest plot reads go go go go stop
and brother math yawps chop chop chop chop chop