we mourn the firefly we praise his plight


we are
in open fields with open bodies









open mouths

porous is our skin





and vast is our expanse


through holler we make echo and
raise from the seam the feathers of ill content


contortion of spine remove our bones from the presence of vertebrae

listless vertebrae
do you know of ease

make strangers of our ribs
make foe of the abdomen from whence they came


we are alien
to motion to still to linger

we are aliens and we walk among men and
we cover our alien faces with hands come from man


we are
and we mourn the firefly












gone gone



and blind
we bend



and blind

























and limp.