awake,
again.

feet twitch,
lungs stretch and quickly bend
then invert again,
mouth opens
like a fish.

body stretches,
I’m born a morning-moth.

outside
the blank canvas
of hilly world,
is leveled and painted white.

invisible ink never ceases
to leak through
from empty space
into this other empty place

red seeps into sky,
as sanguine blood
leaks into grey brain
from ever-tangled veins

forget the old,
it’s gone.
pray to the new.

and the colors change,
turning this into a different day,
so I forget the morning, too.

times passes slow and sharp
with the river
that smells of stagnant decay,
everything slips
into a vast blue
unknown
or garbage dump.

When the hard sun
is murdered by the moon,
I cut the fire
and trim my body clean.

faces wash in starlight
and we tell each constellation
what they mean,
and they agree.

I chronicle my story there.
in star, in rock, in wind,
in everything
that the next moment destroys
and births again.