perihelion paper tiger…


into this cell of memory

scritched scratched like graffiti

on stone tablets on hill tops

in chambers in pyramids

veins running red with moments

when all the stars are not

when the sky is black and white

why the clouds call my name

so this laughing wind

erases me

clinging to a memory

fading as I am rubbed out

like a carbon based life form

headlines floating down the gutter

yesterday they were so proud…


*stitch me a shirt fashionable for death, and where does that belong

in a multiverse of song…


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