Conversation, From a Perspective

March 13, 2014

In collaboration with Kalispell Par

The egg shall be kept in a coat closet with a light-bulb of hope shining on it. The peacock shall have no limitations on its existence. That’s how we get the best meat, adventure meat.

Recumbent, he thinks about the sun.

As she stands there across the street from the biggest library she’s ever seen,
she stops to look back with questioning eyes at the rose she left behind.

It is a beautiful sun;
It makes the days beautiful, and it made the rose beautiful.

In her negligee, in the search for a sun-ray’s beckoning,
(the sun searches for itself?)
she creates steps, precocious.

Now, the rose having withered, did the sun abandon the rose?
Or did the rose spurn the sun?

Could he put mirrors around the Earth, and see himself from yesterday?
Only if he searches at the speed of light; only if she gives him light.

It is a wild sun, because beauty is wild.
Selfishly, he thinks about the sun.

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