Look deeply into the future
You are writing words
You learned this language
Something expanded more richly and more elaborately than you could have ever imagined
You remember when you perceived the word complex as sophisticated and academic
You were a child and now you are something else
Look thinly into the past
You are writing a poem
You do not know this language

I think I saw all of you in a *******
It was raining and I was crying
We were at a waterpark
People screamed when they went down the slides and sighed at the end
A baby was calling out for its mother
Drops splashed down onto the sweet pavement

At the intersection of a vague bravado and worried unformedness, I turn on the radio to hear sparkles of joy and humour, and a useful skepticism. On the road ahead of me, I see a sign labelled “Determination begins here.” I take the exit.

What am I to do without a harshly scrutinizing figurine on my shelf? Accept something that accepts me? And only loving critiques and informs me instead of violently projecting vitriolic love/hate attacks towards me? Oh no! I have lost everything.

But I have found, and am finding various other things. And on that exit, is more signs. And more sentences that begin with connectives. And so on.

Exploded: Two green lines out of the dog and human’s body
In it they thought of the forced expansion of meaning
Unconsensual development
Let it explode radically out of a chamber of infiltration and distrust
Simple green lines explode towards the wall out of the dog and human’s body

My dog is sitting in the corner of my room
I’m not sure what he wants or what I do either

I am ready to write pensive, tired prose
I am ready to wilt like a petal, dying rose
My laptop is dying as I watch the horizon
My body is lying as my breath is sighing
A million moments all wrapped up for me
The wine in my glass has drunk me to sleep

i've lost myself in another one's soul
i'm a carrot trapped in another soup’s bowl
now i must plan my literary escape
the forward momentum of an enlightened ape
uncover the furniture and pull back the drape
i live for myself not under one’s cape

may our work be fruitful and that of our own
with only your own eyes will light be shown
wander the desert with seeds to be sewn
but meet other travellers or ring them by phone
but never be lost in another one’s tone
or tomb