Tumbling-hair
              picker of buttercups
                                   violets
dandelions
And the big bullying daisies
                             through the field wonderful
with eyes a little sorry
Another comes
              also picking flowers

Don’t breathe too hard,
the air might infect
your numbed gaping mouth,
sneak in some fleshy cavity
and die,
the stink emitting deathly bile
that seeps through gauze,
onto tongue,
down throat,
tormenting tastebuds,
filling cheeks with sick rot
until some frightening tool,
some cold industrial instrument,
comes along to rip
the defective suture from your gums,
relieving your jaw of its ache,
your mouth of its stench.
And blood—
sweet warm living blood—
replaces vile secretion,
and the crusted yellow stitch
lies there alone on a steel table.

When man fell, he saw a constant
downward acceleration of
nine-point-eight meters per second per second
over a time span of approximately
eternityinaninstant
until his speed caught up with
the subatomic particles that challenge light,
and he became subhuman,
challenging Light.

Cold blue delicate wings
spread lifeless on the harsh gravel,
marred by the slightest human touch,
crumpled and torn by a tuft of April breeze.
This regal creature now rests
amid the brass of old bullets,
remnants of a hot violent explosion now cold.

For now,
I want to write these happy words.
And I don't want to think about
How anything might hurt.

I feel a mind state reminiscent of Dr. Suess,
No feelings of worry about you
Weighing round my neck like a noose.

The difference between them and you,
I feel a glow of perfection. Maybe it is
Your love of my perspective
Influencing my mood.

Whatever it is, I want to see it through.
Though it's not really a choice
I'm glad it's something
I'm looking forward to.