A CELLOPHANE AIRPLANE

A fascination with the rearrangement of animals

A sleepy love with racing breasts

An avenue to turn paralysis

That which
remains part of the fiction remains
New York

glass shards
in the grass
helicopter
a situation we can’t

stop immaculating, each one veering

into the joke, likewise I tear
at Red Shift
I grow my beard I
ride the train

I lurch and return I
always knew the reason

there was no reason there
there was no reason fit

I stopped not
looking and got
stuck that way

*****

I’m highest at the cemetery
ambling through the capillaries
of lawn, tombs pursed

with the exception
of names, which have themselves
become words

I read my way through
the light, is it not imagined?

It is

and the darkness
is alight

I have watched the gospel

on my television and furthermore

I have kissed the girl

on the highway overpass and I don’t think

the two distinct

*****

It ended with bourbon
and tulips, we split

our desires
and folded them

into a cellophane airplane
which never touched ground

again

She wanted to dance

but that part
was flying