Flying: A Stream of Consciousness
violet violets everywhere so where are the green petals
what are they why no green flowers I want
to see green roses blues are blues not what
I say what I say is that I am:
wings, bird; I want to be birds' feathers
shoulder blades itching to break
bones and blades attached to fingers. a pen
is where I have fingernails — my skin is printed paper
my blood is only ink black ink black seas water
water everywhere so thirsty I can't drink
a thing.
I hear singing, singing everywhere
angels can't sing, they have wings: they
are too busy flying to think of songs — air
and clouds and God and what they would
sing fades because holy hell I am flying
clouds like
ribbons across my skin, so light and cold a lake blue lake
Trees ring around that deep lake where sea
gulls land confused where is our gray ocean why
were we tricked you lied to us to trap us into settling here.
what are they why no green flowers I want
to see green roses blues are blues not what
I say what I say is that I am:
wings, bird; I want to be birds' feathers
shoulder blades itching to break
bones and blades attached to fingers. a pen
is where I have fingernails — my skin is printed paper
my blood is only ink black ink black seas water
water everywhere so thirsty I can't drink
a thing.
I hear singing, singing everywhere
angels can't sing, they have wings: they
are too busy flying to think of songs — air
and clouds and God and what they would
sing fades because holy hell I am flying
clouds like
ribbons across my skin, so light and cold a lake blue lake
Trees ring around that deep lake where sea
gulls land confused where is our gray ocean why
were we tricked you lied to us to trap us into settling here.