the inflated planet above rolls around my brow; my lunatic infinite sil. it happies my wig. shakes the knits in my knots waked - furious pans to sizzle the math of confusion; the hocks of nonsense. -to mix the stubborn real into my temporary excited calms.
enable is my palm, upended, to grab the ladle in the blind spot. all amazed. all at rest. the rest. of days.
i play my flute sharply-puncturing the 500-second flood into flat speed that flows and knows no frame.
it is my silver belt. for safety. for the sky.
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