the child knows, the green dies, the insolent person
blossoms. sweet satire, paradox, thanking gods—to include humans, to bathe in
blood, big minds, bigger graphics. such sugar rain, sugar pain, like vinegar
years in; losing an edge, a shining face, the countenance changed. too many
falling, too many on havoc, staring into spaces. to fail in thought, to blame
inescapability, so many times at life; a new year, a new resolution, another tobacco
stick; earth to skies, skies to earth, no more sorrow—so make-believe, so much
a soul on seas, a language most knew—before drowning it out, seriousness taken
for granted, so close, it’s uncomfortable. less is proper when scheduled, when
more is possible, when we’re being humble. the journey is eternal. we forget
it. because it’s too much to realize: beige deserts, cloud high mountains, and fire-bread.
