secondary but flowing
endlessly through ripped out seeds
that gained soil weight on the
way to their death. supple necks
surrounded by new air
and broken glasses;
eyes that no longer carry
water.
that was magic,
so,
i still can fly.
after, life. there was a pause and we ended our grass-grown eyebrows and curled up against our dreaming eyes. this is where i leave you, and...