living sculpture
i don’t understand all of this but you are a palindrome for i & because of this i am up in the middle of the sky with a pair of topiary shears, turning the clouds into so many inorganic shapes. i am in the sky taking out my eyes and gluing them to your shadow. i am in the sky, without eyes. i am in you like serious & stuffing the clouds with moss. i am throwing clouds everywhere. these are still clouds, but, yes, i have covered them with inorganic stained glass, ok? what else am i supposed to do, while you attract all of that light? it isn’t that love is complicated, but that we are called human beings. it isn’t that i am in the sky, but i am. i am in the middle of the sky as the stained glass light topples toward the earth and onto your shadow, the one to which my eyes are glued. i don’t understand all of this but you are a palindrome for i.
kindling
write your name on fire
and forget everything
these days
it’s impossible
not to be jealous
of a prism
for the safety of those
around you please return
to an elemental state
levitate
your hesitations
spray paint
your third eye
embrace loosely
connected notations
this is the 21st
century you are almost
made of neon
light
all of the blood
in your body
is extra
celestial making
you: infinity
light everything
on fire and forget
your name here
hold it in until you burst
if diamonds travel through the blood
stream swallow the moon immediately
compare the lungs of a whale
to the size of your psychic debt
the respectful thing to do is make
the disappointing choice like the human
meat you’ve always been
o beatific lump of confusion
sadness is still blue even in the black
emptiness of space in the tight room of death
floating above the initial hurt
we are never overlooked by mistakes
nor the color of boredom
by accepting the weight of limitation
you’ve lost the ability to be tree to be light
the quality of the universe is mediocre
and i am the wrong thought every time