slice the sun like a pie though its the only true eye, too bright to look at, divide its warmth amongst season pass holders and its flames across the parking lot, popping tires, melting credit cards, settling the first layer of future fuels
on less, please pass generations across the table, only all the air they can breathe, water to drown weeds, lighten tongues, and an endless alphabet tripping down steps for each stairing upwards at the ghosted bond
for my dear ever, orchestrate an offensive outside time and its crude barbs taking public note of the dropping face, lengthening skin, wracking bone, make yourself a double, hold back on a name, sing to it lowly through the wall, pat its heart softly, being generous for the unending moment
wish back a tail, pulling the earth up like fallen pants, warm and moist around the churning middle, lose the tongue, middle finger of the mouth, offending right and left and all the easy definitions in the parade, reach back to the simple blade shearing off knuckles before they were raised to symbol
crafted from refined anticipation, tuned to an invisible common note, invested with all the lately code reinforcing atoms patented coursing through that delicate touch on screen and veil, cowl reborn filtering light through flesh, thinning blood across scene, organs on the outside pinging in
where to worry is the frame, sold regardless of the picture, paint appears overnight, sovereign blue, all this choice is ownership elsewhere, pleasure capitalized, activated without touch, the air divided
seeds remember, that is our doing, pushing the earth away on day one, draining sunlight from the still flowing glass of every floor, allowing area but not space, pulling droplets upwards to gloss the shiny built at the start above grasping ground
love impossible to assemble alone along faded highway divider allowing for accident after accident after ascent bumping rafters with a fistful of starry eyes come back to me and my singular space inviting traffic onto the curb
a toast to the body built of bodies hunched skyward twisting its many tongues, lifting lines of currency even higher until they appear hair thin, invisible from the rooted ground where the bodies are integers, if at all
as cold as the moon is, it still holds up the night sky, glinting knot tacking the starry tarp that waits to fall and crush out the air, eight moons on my fists punching above the weight of one world, tense for more out there/in there