There is nothing light about being, nothing heavy either
a heaving ether peppered by noise I am not one who thinks
the disordered part disorders the whole I do not even believe
in it reggae punctuates the street I wish for birds
Johnny Cash in the street then ambulances mediating
joy a Braille of slumping shadows rides away
Who are you gonna ride with boy? I’m gonna test the gray balloon
brains of my enemies no I’m gonna trim my beard
gonna breed sulfur in a flummoxing smog, train
it to believe in the shapes I make breathing
Order is not peace it is death and we can’t get
enough of it Rather to intimate to overlap to happen
again to already know now again A phone on the street woke
me up the next morning then I heard it as a directive—change
your mind
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