to figure the future right like a time bomb activation site
ground zero with you
it's a cloud talking all breathy, oak leaves for desert
if you kiss my ghost I'll haunt the limestone quarry
for probably a year until my throat gets better
or your eyes deflate.
Sometimes dangerous things are important though --
that blood red rose of a letter on a grave during witching hour,
the decision to buy a flower or not to buy a flower
in the shitty wintersnow.
If I forgot the echo oh god did I
miss what the world had to tell me?
it's a little heart and a pink scarf and a litter of kittens
on the doorstep
the air is slender, the wave is large
and made of tulips and water
I'm rising in the oven, in an overture of fond interaction
bring me soft simple whole notes
drawn out to drown a pause
my poor little nails, my sharp bloody claws.
a fist like a hive of honey, sticky with Oh yeah baby
I'm inching toward interest, getting that single ripple
of a flower in my throat.
give it all the wonders it wants because
a new year has flicked a philtre in your ear
while you slumbered in blanket chambers, while
kids made wishes in wells and in jest over
bird bones, stealing from their brothers.
I don't know if a future is a father is filed under a moon carrier -
starfish seaturtles and all, but I know side effects of sideways
come with significant sighs and awe
and the gun on the mantle surely goes off,
I'm a sucker for stage fright or the pregnant pause.
I'm your underwater mythical city, I'm the four a.m. wakeup call.
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