he is the february man
borne of helicopters and hints of oxygen
no one accepts the sunrise without a
helmet but him
he can be found surprisingly
in tribute to forums of birdseed
and aftermath and further intoxicants
helped off the aqueduct
he prides himself on his sense
of plexus yet finds himself rising
only away, away from the czarism
of tumbleweeds
he pretends; aligned severely to
the most modern aerodynamic theories
relying on the more perverse side
of his balance, awe
he undertakes, overcomes
undertakes, overcomes,
and for this he holds no patents.
