primordial grill

I caterwauled between two lonely eagle
when a man gets lost in the suburb
Protecting his face with a mauled hand
prevent him from an inconvenient suburb-sunburn
"Who goes there" he yells occasionally
waking up from a sweaty sleep
He was dreaming of a man dreaming of a man
dreaming of a man dreaming of a man writing a book
about a man dreaming about a man reading a poem about
a man eating breakfast with three women who are each dreaming
about as many women and half again,
Then when he wakes up he peers over the infinite horizon into a sapphire gem of loneliness
and it seems, for one second, that he has transcended beyond the physical realm into a plane of soaring tranquility,
where the translucent snow makes everyone's face look like the moon, as they scramble up into conifers together, naked.
But then three more birds flow from his new-world
and they are the most beautiful parakeets he ever saw,
for they had red, green and gold feathers made of what looked like the finest silk,
almost as if it were oozing out of a pristine, primordial jelly.