November 8, 2007
You’re the one who picked the rock rather than the flower
This is your power
To contradict the orders of the mind
Before you
Twisting and listing the values of a life
In your decision
With such precision you could dissect
Frogs and gods and intellects
Slipping pickled brains
Into the paper cranes
Of old
Yellow paper
Yellow paper fold
Left right across straight 1 2 3-
You’re free
Just listen to the simple words I mold
Between my teeth to tongue
Pushing storming tripping bumping shoving
You grasp the perfumed key
Of moldy books spines
Melting crayon far from the lines
Feathery, newborn vines

Of time

Waiting isn’t wasting now

That rhyme

The places you go
People you know
You will always remember
Faces are embers
Ablaze now in core of the flame
No longer deprived of the
Oxygen they survive on
You have a thousand lives
To thrive on

Come alive

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