and not a wreckage further
I will rest here with my love
while a brown bird swims the air
leaving ripples like a water-glider
on the pond of air and water
oceans in an ocean of light
we are all but standing on
you’re right I don’t understand
the things I do understand
seem weightless and worthless to me
if the gods could be understood
what kind of gods would they be
the price of growing up forever
is not relinquishing childhood
but retrofitting it to a new hagiography
apparently love is so retarded
because no one can figure it out
No comments:
Post a Comment