Clouds tell time. Not depiction. I float
upon my back and infinite variables of gray
collapse, enclose, entwine layer upon layer,
into a never repeating permutation of all
that is this moment.
Dust can burn if the fire is hot enough.
All things burn if the fire is hot enough.
I burn in this lake waiting for the rain.
I rake in the day with the sweep of my hands.
I wish a cloud.
I swim across the lake expecting tomorrow
will be nothing like today. Clouds remain
impossible to explain.
Lake current electric
through the crook of my arm. About me, nothing
hesitates.
A mountain of gold beams through an aperture
within endless grey. Sunset. I have swum across
the lake, through the day. I float between land,
sky, and moment. I turn to return, face the rising
moon, its momentous yoke of stars.
tattoo
tattoo the outline of love onto your imagination
etch your name on swirling winds, blow away
the sand of the desert to see what is written beneath
erase your epitaph, replace it with a date
of your choosing; ink is mightier than the world



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