Pavements made for pedestrians
Are covered with nothing but slight shadows
Walking on the edge
Fall off a 5 centimeter cliff
Into puddles of delicate magma
Laugh it off
Stand back straight
Up high
Head almost
But not enough
Touching the clouds
Doves are weeping above the mist
Olive branches in strands of destruction
Connotations amassing
Dynamites, pop. Pop.
Tasting feathers
While high frequencies slash eye globes with blades
Cuts above the hay
Vibrations penetrating
From anywhere
Whisk the brains
Look at the hands
look at hers
At his
Grin, frothing, grilling, flaming
Fading into dullness
Feeling water digesting
Eyes batting, lashes flowing
Chest rising up and falling
Down
Where knees are popping
And knuckles white and rose
And skin, so much of it
And eyes, so many of them
Joints activated with oil
Squeaking! Squeaking! Squeak!
Purposeless
Terribly terribly terribly
Girdled and not
Alone