A mantra song I do not remember the
meaning it holds- repeated over and over-
in a lotus; no, thighs too big they become
forest, as tonight's dream swings with time,

as your tomorrow becomes my relief, as the
red star winks at the hidden moon; shy
****** curtain, laundry's cheap perfume,
underlined flaws and jellyfishes on a tiny

plate, melting candle, lavender, sweet green
tea and salted butter. Nostrils reek of *****,
bathroom break, do not be late, please wake
up early, earlier than ever. When the east

comes, let's fall asleep with the lights on,
we are not even the moon; souls do not need
sun, or vegetables, or green things growing
happily like someone's five year old- not

my parents', never- they lost the four, the
most important before a five- an incomplete
puzzle, cut neck of a giraffe, eyes black like
coffee black holes, who does not want that?

Chemical terms keep saying hello to the
tiles, count me in, let's have a drink, glasses
of sparkling mineral water. I prefer it clear.
River; never does flow- becomes a yellow

lake. Pretty pretty sands, no one is unique,
a diamond and a thousand more- a pearl, a
wounded shell, mermaid's sadness and a
knife- bubbles covered ocean; sunsets and

fireworks, a birthday, reality and a nymph
with a wing; the bells are calling us as if we
are not yet that cow, grasses greener than
green, numbers of dead things are

increasing, as heartbeats keep piling up like
the books you bought but never read- they
cry at night, especially when it is moonless
and cloudless, like tonight from the

baseball field; where the moths talk about
jealousy and sleepy handsome bats at nine
p.m.- marching chests, a lonely festival, a
ghost house; where lives begin- End.