I'm an old fashioned
one.

There are wrinkles
around my eyes.
My hands
are sharp veined,
beard gristled,
hair
on the grey.

My head
is full of dolphins,
snakes,
horses in moonlight.
The scent of brine
lingers
in dark forests.
Curlews fly
into the cave of bats
where lavender
may permeate.

There are schooners
under full sail
in the Mojave,
condors over the streets
of New York.

Music blows
from the mouths
of salamanders,
turbot swim
in the mines of Messina,
an eagle
smells of honeysuckle.

I see weevils,
bright white,
in carcases of lyre birds

I'm sure old fashioned.

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