the
faint odor of soup cans
and well water wafted through the pumice stone
of recycled air and a faint hum. you thumb through the turbulence of your heart's bone
as it fractures. you catch birds to mock turtles.
with no alice.
the sun adds this...  true moons and canopies
soft shouldered earth and dead moths. we're taught
but more lost. the sea chops
so the horizon is a great wave
on a seahorse.

cozy stars applaud. a wisp of pure force.

you're uncontained.
you might be immortal;
but how could you live
with that ?