oh to be breathing
in a strange
land of strangulation
shown from different
angles where extreme degrees
of difficulty make it harder
to draw anything other
than a gun
oh to be one
with the lung of the universe
expanding . . . inhaling the charred
steak of dead stars, kicking up red
dust on Mars in the pale faces
of fear and dread
oh to be an engineer
that makes diagrams of diaphragms
to invent new ventilators
for post-reconstruction purposes
available for delivery
at premature
funeral services
oh to be mother
nature’s summer lover so every
time she takes my breath away,
i know it won’t
be forever
oh to be like the trees
that synthesize the light of day
leaving without leaving
oh to be alive
again
oh
to
be
oh to
oh to
oh to
oh to
oh to
oh to
oh to
oh to
