the final tears of paradise
will form
the boat where our gestures
glide
like happy
cross-stitches
you suture
on the spot
you are
the first prints
the animals have left
and we’re left with
a thousand ways of looking, avoiding traps
making observations
a language like Africa
and languages like math and
laziness
contagious
laziness
the fear of holding on
perfectly perfectly ordinary
it’s good to have fun
to be restful
it heals us somehow
a valid state
comprehensible
like a beeping
beware of feelings! and at the same time
feel free
when tomorrow slumbers
heedless of prophecies
you’re a nightingale
and everything is just
as troublesome
a precision rises in the small hours
that hits and sinks
every strike
breathes a thin threat
memories dig
into the face
beautiful deers mid-ditch-jump
a quarrel flows
in temperate harmony
a living flame as of new-lit torches
an extinguishing shower from a waterfall
rolls across the skin
spinal dents
like grooves paths quills cells blooms dust
you drip
into corners into newfound dreams
on a dark blanket silently
soundly celebrating
on the other side of this humming
many live as if unaware of us
and it doesn’t matter
here tears are capable
they wash
soft laundry
in flight
in the wind
hundreds of fluttering sheets
in knots
words all tied
part of the work site
cats on the boughs
are mewling in chorus
of love in all its forms
pssssht
don’t stay
to keep gathering
in the middle of the day
and pssssht
don’t recall harshly
these trembling commandments
I was just shattered sticky with agony
and sensitive to the touch
a stony tablet
by my count it doesn’t take long
when they say
there is no ugliness
from any perspective
there is no ugliness
when you dare
to be
injuries and all
perfectly perfectly ordinary