It makes little ripples—it means what it meant, it
becomes formidable, a galaxy in a box, a world in a rose. To see as
butterflies, to laugh like chimpanzees, to hunger like romance. I was a child. It
wasn’t correct. Enough of that!
To meet in dreams, to awaken reaching, to adjudge
others with visions.
Not too overt, not too subtle, just enough to draw
conclusions;
a map to a mind, a coyote to a sheep, a deer at a
pond, a panting lioness; fueled for existence, loving as it churns, to become
addicted to what’s natural:
to know its design, to know nothing, to unvet a
paradox, to become a contradiction, as put into devices.
Today of days:
Tomorrow of memories:
Sound of, it was.
