| galveston bird watching if you want me to, I will. I will wrap the world in songs and pumpkin seeds. Put it all together in a knot, and pull till the string unravels. An unborn astronaut goes flying through the air, melting in the sky. His lips go outside, frozen in the night. The diving time is not against the wind. I drive this broken car, pressed upon the night, sail into the sky. The bird turns tomatoes into silk. Unripened but juicy just the same. They enter the universe smelling of fireworks and stains. Alive and writhing, pulling inside the best there is, becoming better than a fruit. Better than a vegetable. |
