Previously Published in Counterexample Poetics . . .

 Behind the Beat of This Alien Drum

The rhinoceros spins along a row of elaborate flowers

in a [hesitant] moment's waning moonlight.

A midnight two-step; the bee-by flutter

of an untouched horn three shades lucky.

I rub the place where it stuttered

hoping to osmosize a sa[m]pling of karma.

Its aboriginal texture is confusing; my fingers

play it like Braille.  Bleeding themselves

across indecipherable scales, I worry[bead] this tree

line aura.  Heavy as smoke, I am

dying with its breath.  I

                                       dive through a random

streak of sand.  Come out clean

of everything but the ghastly image

of a mustached cigar being

swallowed by a sure-footed swish

                                                         of a tale.