bright vibrant colors on thin squares
–we draft notes in thick black ink
upon your waifish pulpy paper hairs,
bold medallions of what we think
in languid moments of lucidity,
between the mulchy drone of living,
acting with intense perfidity
to feign a penchant for forgiving
errant thoughts among the turbulence
of being alive. each thought a lesson
brought to you by the letter C,
the number 6, the papal blessing,
a twine-bundled copse of sage set free
with fire and oxygen and astronomy.
we write this on you, you see.
Categories
004p: stickums
