the
fragility of the
pink seashell
they shine,
like gas in the rain,
on
the
countertop
of the kitchen and,
i hear the trees lullabies and the birds soliloquizing.
they dance
amidst
the
plebian clouds and frank o' hara drinks
his coffee
hot. the moths are sleeping and
i clean
the serpents teeth.
in the kitchen, i stand like land art and grass
grows and flies by. my nelipot heart,
without a doubt.
i am not made for this earth but my throat
heaves on like a
bullet in the
pink sky.
anoesis, amaranthine and the birds
are
still here in the post card sea.
the butterflies face eachother and why does math
make
so much sense now?
the
damage
is
done.
YOU ARE READING
a ladybug's experience in space (sleepy poems)
Poetryrandom poems i don't edit or read over written in a frenzy at night while the moon and the stars are watching over me and my eyelids roll over
