Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Some would call

I know I am too much

like you. That is why you cannot love me.

We go extinct from each other, this planet

of many planets, species

fade off-grid each day—

To watch the breakdown

of cells attack each other—

caffeinated hive—implosion shakes

the tree, then bursts it to light-ashes.

They’ll send a man in a hat, a pocket

that shines to tell you. Or they won’t.

His teeth will be wet when you learn what

you already knew:

stop looking for feathers.

Don’t you remember you dreamt they would

empty every sky, then fill them

with birds that look real.

Don’t you remember

some would call this beauty, claim

not to know the difference.

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