we are luminous obscurity
hustling bustling through streets of disease
reflected in featureless magazines
waterfalls pound the sound of beauty
spaciousness exalted like a castle
yet about to fall from the weight of its own muscles
such wasted beauty
duty obscured
truly baffled by the frailty of our future
i have no fault with others
i find fault only in the weather
stand up for our brethren who battle themselves
like burnt toast
we slather butter on our noses
remorse is ugly
snuggled against our clothes
sloven sitcoms arrows and bows
so many noses
we return roses to the funeral homes
sweep the room of dust and lustful bunnies
dig in the river’s soil
surround yourself with oily muscles
shadows sing our dreams into songs
of belonging
fixing our faulty lenses
so we can see the essence
blessed as we are
next to perfect yet far from harm
out of harms way we burn torches
salute our scorched castaways
and brandish our swords like they are wands
or perhaps just jewelry for our hearts
like darts and lances
July is the month of sorrow
painted on canvases whiter than the moon
sparing us our celebrations
or perhaps we danced to soon
for once the water is hot
we like to fill our pots
with mustard greens and kale stalks
while love prepares the stock