Noah’s arc, but we all get in the ocean and float to the end of the world
to the next world
to the world just beyond us, before us and between us. To the between.
Now we’re going to fall apart
now we’re going to plan to rewrite
to re-scratch the screech
the clunk, the tires plunking out of the sidewalk
You don’t walk. You glide
you slide, you slither you burn silver in the back of my mind
You didn’t walk into my life
you ran. sprinted- fast and firm
heaving and spluttering you redefined definition
i keep having this recurring dream that i’m really here. that it’s all really here. clear and concise and dropped out of space. out of time. out and up and through and before…the clacking and clucking of old lots round moments. of cultures and cobwebs and miserable tastes in your head.
i say, bring me the motion. the trust and the triumph. bring me the rain, to resistance of your brain.
but then comes the poetry
soft and ligneing and always and always just pouring, popping pilfering and trusting.
i followed the hills, i shot stardust through all the thrills
the sugar runnig through my skin judges me
people start sweating sugar
listen, look, the whole world slides away when you let it
the whole world peels backwad when you purse your lips and blow through the circumfrence of a square
all i see is the tetrahedron of your face, glistening, purple and wide.