Do you feel your head unspooling into the universe?
The ends of the string are fraying at the edges,
irreparably stained with the stardust at the ends
of the many worlds you stretch across.
Do you feel your tight-stitched, needle-sharp, double-knotted
Child's brain falling up, up into the
Twilight, into heaven's most beautiful
Graveyard, where all the other radiant little minds go to wait?
You can never rewind.
You can never un-grow up.
Yes, Alice thought as she drifted deeper into sleep from within that lightless and beautiful place, make it stranger now. Make it all new again.
My very favorite poem is an inarguably terrible one. I do not know its name and do not care to find out if it has a name.
The sun is pink, and the sky is green on the day that I am standing knee deep in perfectly still salt water. The tired marble floor of heaven is finally dissolving beneath my feet.
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