Something carried me here
Distance and snowflakes
pulled through harp strings
and me lost
with the light and wind streaming
around me.

The next time I whisper
your name it will be
an echo through a megaphone
between open doorways
down the hall somewhere
between the sky
and a history so silhouetted and folded
in on itself
that the galaxy will pulse
for a single second
countless stars flare.
And my hands seem bigger,
bigger than they usually seem
too big and babies born
in the wreckage will bear
the birthmark of my breath.
Please breathe with me,
cough consistently,
and bear witness.

On the edge walks a man
with acane tapping out
the rhythm
is a code
is an enigma.
He smiles,
and sucking his gums he swallows god.
It's a game they play.
To let divinity slide
through his intestines
to seed divinity randomly anew
into...

It starts as an odor
and becomes a cycle.
This is the way
of the natural lack of order.